Resistance
by I Am Atrocity
Summary: Sequel to Redemption. After the defeat of Thanos, a new threat appears in the form of an old enemy. Prisoners are taken, lives are lost and the battle-lines are drawn. The fates of Asgard and Midgard hang in the balance. Can S.H.I.E.L.D. and their allies overcome this menace, or will they all fall before the might of their enemies?
1. Germany: 1914-1934

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: This is the first chapter of my new story, the sequel to 'Redemption', read that first if you haven't already. **

**I hope those that have read 'Redemption' will enjoy this. As has been seen in my stories before, I have trouble with sequels, but I think my problem was that I used OCs, so I have refrained from that shortcut in this story, as I did in 'Redemption'. **

**This first chapter details the origins of the Red Skull, from his birth to a bit before what we saw in Captain America: The First Avenger. The second chapter will return focus to Loki and Natasha, so bear with me.**

**NOTE: None of the characters in this chapter are OCs, they are all in the comics.**

**Most of the events and much of the dialogue in this chapter comes from from the 'Red Skull: Incarnation' comics, but I have added on and changed some details. **

**Brace yourselves. This isn't going to be pretty.**

**ENJOY!**

**Resistance**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter I: Germany, 1914-1934**

**'I preyed on human nature, I took this innocence alive. I prayed through the allegations, deliver me from the fire. And I feel no remorse, take me to the gallows. Textbook psycho, analyze my shame. He took the innocence away. And I vowed to watch you die, take him to the gallows. Excommunicate, hang the beast. Show no mercy in the God-damned killing. Excommunicate, I'm in love with feeling nothing for life.'**

**-Excommunicate by Aiden.**

**A small village in Germany, 1914.**

It was late, the sun setting behind the trees. The village was small, the houses build of wood, with very few having brick as reinforcement. In one of the these houses, a woman named Martha Schmidt lay in the agony of childbirth.

She screamed, biting down hard on the dirty rag that had been stuffed in her mouth. At the foot of the bed, an older man, a doctor, was standing, urging her on. "Come on, now, Martha, just a bit more. I can see the head. Come on."

She screamed again, pushing her infant out with all the force she could muster. Another push, then another. Two more, then the wail of an infant filled the room. She gasped, feeling weak and slightly dizzy.

"It's a boy, Martha," the doctor told her, wrapping a small cloth around the newborn. he walked around to stand beside the bed, holding the babe in his arms. "What will you call him?"

Martha barely heard the question, her head swimming. "J-Johann," she managed to whisper, her voice a soft rasp. Then her eyes began to fall shut.

"Martha?" the doctor asked, trying to get her attention. She did not answer. "Martha?!" Still no answer. "_Lieber Gott!_" He set the baby down on the bed and reached for his stethoscope, immediately trying to find a heart beat. After a moment, he sighed and removed the stethoscope. He looked at the still-crying infant sadly, then pulled the sheet of the bed up over Martha Schmidt's lifeless form, covering her face.

Just as he finished this, the door to the little house burst open to reveal an obviously drunk, and extremely angry Hermann Schmidt. He looked at the doctor, then down to the sheet covered form on the bed, then back again in confusion. "What the devil is this?" he asked angrily.

The doctor held up his hands in a placating manner. "Hermann, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Hermann asked, still with anger in his tone. "You're sorry?" He pointed to the form. "Is she...?" The doctor nodded. Hermann's face grew even darker than it had been. His eyes fell on the infant that was laying on the bed, his tiny feet kicking lightly as he cried. "It is not your fault, _Herr Doktor_, it was this devil!" He then rushed across the room, his face contorted in rage, and grabbed the child from the bed. He then turned and took the child outside, into the cool night air. "_Dämon!_"

"Hermann, what are you doing?!" the doctor cried, following the drunken, rage-filled man outside.

Hermann knelt beside the water pump near the house and set the wailing infant aside unceremoniously. He grabbed a bucket and began to fill it with water. Once it was filled he grabbed the baby again and shoved it, head-first, into the bucket, its cries going silent instantly. "I am sending this devil back to hell!"

The doctor stared in horror. "Hermann! Stop this madness!" He ran forward, trying to pull Hermann's hands away from the child, who was squirming in infantile panic. "Hermann!"

Hermann removed one hand long enough to strike the doctor across the face, then returned to the infant that he was drowning in the bucket. "Madness, _Herr Doktor_? Madness? _Nein!_ This is not madness! Madness is that this demon killed my wife! That is the only madness here, _Herr Doktor_."

The doctor, stood from where he had fallen when Hermann hit him. He looked around quickly, spotting a shovel laying nearby. He ran over to it and picked it up. He then hurried back and raised it over his head, then swung it down, across Hermann's back with a sharp slap of metal on flesh. Hermann howled in pain and fell to the side. The doctor dropped the shovel and pulled the baby from the water. It wasn't breathing. In a panic, he pressed down on its chest as hard as he dared, three time. He then repeated the action, praying rapidly and quietly. After three sets of compressions, a small splurt of water spewed from the tiny babe's mouth and it began to cry again, though much more softly this time. "_Gott, ich danke dir!_"

He stood with the child in his arms, and ran, leaving Hermann Schmidt laying outside his house, beside a filled bucket of water. That night, the doctor took little Johann and left town. The next morning, Hermann Schmidt was found hanging from the rafters in his home by a rope that he had tied around his own neck.

**Munich, Germany, 1923.**

The Munich Home For Wayward Boys, that was what the sign on the gate read. It was a reformatory, a place for the boys who no one wanted, and was overseen by a man addressed by the boys only as _Herr Direktor_. It was here that young Johann, now nine years of age, now dwelled, after having been taken to an orphanage by the good doctor that had saved him as an infant. But, when he was seven, he had run away, having no friends, and no reason to stay.

He had been picked up off the streets by the police, and taken here. Now, he was but one of many delinquent boys that resided in the reformatory.

One day, while he and some of the other boys were out in the front lawn, raking leaves and other menial jobs, a small brown puppy slipped through the bars of the tall iron fence that surrounded the reformatory.

Dieter, a skinny blonde boy, was the first to notice the new arrival. He looked up from where he had been sitting on the grass, taking a moment's break. "Wha-?" The puppy whined as it came near him. He looked around, making sure that the Director was not nearby or looking out the window at them. Assured that they were in the clear, he patted his leg. "Come here, boy, quickly!"

The puppy scurried over to him and he scooped him up into his arms. "Shh. Quiet, boy." He looked around, making sure that he was still in the clear.

A soft, excited yip drew Johann's attention to Dieter. He walked over to him, but stopped short, seeing what was in the other boy's arms. "What the hell are you doing, Dieter?! You're going to get us all in-"

He was cut off by the sudden arrival of the Dogcatcher. The man leaned out the window of his truck. "You boys seen a dog go by? Little brown thing."

Johann looked and the man then turned his eyes to Dieter, who was turned away from the Dogcatcher, with the puppy hidden inside his ratty brown jacket. He looked at him pleadingly. Johann narrowed his eyes, then looked back to the Dogcatcher and pointed off in the direction that the man had been driving. "_Ja_. It went that way, a moment ago."

The Dogcatcher nodded. "_Danke!_" He then prepared to drive off in search of the dog. He paused though, seeing someone else approach behind the boys that had just helped him.

Johann pitched forward as a strong hand collided painfully with the back of his head. His hands went to his head, trying in vain to soothe the pain that he felt there. He turned around to find the Director glaring down at him. "No talking to decent people, Schmidt! You know the rules!" He slapped him again. "Understood?"

Johann blinked back tears, and nodded. "_Ja, Herr Direktor,_" he said, looking down at his feet.

The Director continued to glare at him. "Good. Now get inside, all of you. Everyone inside, now!"

The Dogcatcher watched all of his this with thinly veiled disgust, then drove away.

That night, the boys were in their room, laying in their beds, on thin, uncomfortable mattresses. Johann was still awake, as were many of the other boys, unable to sleep do to the whining of the puppy that Dieter had smuggled into the dorm and now held in his arms.

Another whine sounded from the dog and Johann growled softly. "You had better shut that thing up, Dieter!"

"He's hungry, Johann," Dieter told him, pulling the puppy closer to his chest.

Johann scoffed. "Don't kid yourself. Look at it! See how small it is? It's sick, It's going to die. You should never have even picked it up at all."

Dieter hugged the puppy as it whined again, a tear escaping his eye as he tried to ignore Johann's cruel words. "I...I used to have one just like him before..." He swallowed thickly. "...before Gramma passed away...and they brought me here.." Another tear escaped as he thought about his grandmother. "...He just needs someone to give him a little help and..."

Johann scoffed again and got out of his bed, stalking toward the door and out into the hall, disappearing from view.

"Johann!" Dieter called after him as the other boys watched him leave in horror; if he told the Director about the puppy, then they were all in for a beating.

Johann ignored them and walked down the stairs. He entered the kitchen and began going through the cabinets, searching for an adequately sized bowl. He found one in the pantry. He then moved to the fridge and began to pilfer through its contents.

Dieter came running into the kitchen, the puppy clutched to his chest. "Johann!"

Johann turned to him sharply. "_Ruhig sein_, you moron! Do you want to wake-"

"I'm sorry. I thought you were going to tell the-" Dieter stopped, hearing someone approach behind them.

"Hm," the Director hummed in his chest. "What do we have here?"

Johann and Dieter looked at each other in horror, then lowered their head. "We're sorry, _Herr Direktor_, we were going to tell you, but..." Johann trailed off, not sure what to say.

The Director studied them. "Hmph," was all he said before turning and going back the way he had come. The two boys traded looks of confusion, but shrugged and hurried back to their room, Johann grabbing a bit of leftover meat from the fridge, which he handed to Dieter, who fed it to the puppy, who devoured it hungrily.

The next morning, during the breakfast, the Director stood over them, glaring down at them. Neither boy had food in front of them, and the other boys cast short, subtle glances at them as they ate their breakfast. At Dieter's feet, the puppy was eating away at a plate that bore the food that would have gone to Johann and himself.

"You two were born in 1914, the year our great nation went to war." The Director told them. "You were born in a time of hope, you should be heroes. But, no, you are nothing but cowards, thieves and traitors! Just like those _Jews_," he spat the word like it was a curse, "and those damned socialists that betrayed the _Reich_ in 1918!" He slammed his hand down on the table, startling a few of the other boys. "Or maybe you're _communists_," he said this word as if it were the most horrible thing imaginable. "To each according to his own _need_, eh? Is that it?" Neither said a word. The Director looked down at the puppy, then back to them. "Well, let's see how much you like it when you're the ones being robbed. You don't need that food, but that mutt, it does. I could probably get more use out of that mutt than the two of you together!"

Dieter clenched his jaw defiantly and looked down at the puppy. "Go on, boy. You eat all that up and get nice and strong and-" He was cut off by a vicious backhand from the Director. He fell to the ground, and Johann stood angrily, only to be struck himself. He did not fall, and received another hit for it. And another, until he finally fell.

The boys were taken to the infirmary later, where they were looked over by a Doctor that had been called in. As she checked on Dieter, she kept muttering "Stupid." under her breath.

Dieter tried to stand up, but a firm hand on his chest kept him laying down on the table. "I...I can't stay here and longer. You...you have to let..."

The Doctor scoffed. "And where would you go, Dieter? You have no idea what it's like out there, in the real world."

"Can't be much worse than this," Dieter muttered.

"Oh, you think so?" the Doctor asked in a bitter voice. "I stood in the line at the grocer's this morning to spend _Forty Billion _marks for one bag of _salt_. Then, there's all the fighting in the streets. And some madman in Berlin killed _children_. Does that sound better than this, Dieter?"

The blonde boy did not answer, but Johann simply uttered "Hnh," as a small smile began to grow on his face.

The Doctor looked at him. "Oh, you thing I'm kidding Schmidt? Just read a damned newspaper and you'll see-"

Johann ignored her and took off, running out the door. He ran out onto the streets, and just kept running. He turned onto a wide main street and saw a large crowd gathered there. He ran toward them, catching bit of conversation. "Those crazy bastards...They're actually doing it!" "Hey! Shut your mouth!" "I'll say what I want, you little piece of-"

Johann moved through the crowd, bumping into people as he tried to get to the front of the crowd. "Hey, watch where you're going, kid!" a man said as Johann collided with him.

Johann turned around. "Sorry, I'm just trying to-"

"SCHMIDT!"

A large hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back. "Shut up, boy, and salute." The Director placed his open palm to his chest, then extented his arm out straight in front of him as a long column of men wearing brown and tan uniforms and red bands, bearing a white circle with a black swastika inside, around their right arms marched by. After a second, he lowered his arm and grasped Johann by both shoulders. "Look at them, boy. Those men are the true sons of Germany. It was men like them that fought the communists in 1919, and marched with Kapp and Lüttwitz in 1920, and it was men like them that beat down Ballestedt in 1921. Look at them." The Director called out to one of the passing men. "Where are you all heading?"

The man turned to him and pointed down the street. "City hall, then Berlin!"

The Director smiled and raised a fist in joy. "HA!" He looked down at Johann. "The _Putsch_, it's finally, finally happening. The end of the Republic, and the return of the _Reich_. Watch, boy, watch. This is the making of history. Watch the real heroes take back our country!"

Just as he said this, gunshots rang out at the head of the procession and several of the marching men fell dead in the street. The men began to retreat and Johann could see a man in a dark coat with short dark hair and a small mustache being ushered hurriedly in a car for escape.

The crowd began to scatter and Johann was knocked off his feet. Another of the men fell dead, his pistol clattering to the ground nearby. Johann began to crawl toward it, but was stopped by the Director grabbing him and pulling him back. "Get up! Get up, you little bastard! You will stand, and for once in your useless life-"

Johann's hand closed around the pistol and he turned, pointing it at the Director's head. "Let go of me or I'll-"

He was cut off by the Director batting the gun away and striking him across the face. "No you won't, you dirty little coward!" He pulled Johann to his feet by his hair, but released him when a young man in a brown and tan uniform elbowed him in the face.

"Get out of my way, old man!" the young man yelled, not even stopping as he struck the Director, then kept going.

Johann took his chance and ran, the Director yelling after him. He ran through the crowds, ducking in between people as he made his escape. He ran passed a group of the men with the red arm bands surrounding a car, and the man in the dark coat was about to climb inside. For a brief moment, he looked back, as Johann looked at him, and their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, then he disappeared inside and the car sped away. Johann continued to run, then stopped, seeing a familiar truck parked up the street a ways.

He ran to the truck and climbed inside the passenger seat. The Dogcatcher looked over at him, his sandwich that he was having for lunch stopped halfway to his mouth. "Hey, you're the boy from the-"

"Just drive," Johann snapped, glaring at the man.

The Dogcatcher waved him down. "Calm down, boy. The crowd's blocking the road. He looked in his rearview mirror and chuckled. "Besides, your _Herr_ _Direktor_, is going the wrong way, and appears to have aquired a bit of a limp in that chaos." He looked back to Johann. "You're in the clear. Better run while you have the chance." When Johann didn't move, and continued to stare at the dashboard, he frowned. "What are you thinking, boy?"

Johann reached forward and picked up a sheathed knife that was sitting there. He took ahold of the handle and glanced back at the cages on the back of the truck. He drew the blade and looked at the Dogcatcher. "Show me how it is you kill them."

The Dogcatcher studied him for a minute. "Whatever you say, kid."

Johann sheathed the blade and sat back as the Dogcatcher started up the engine and drove out, the streets having cleared just enough for them to get through.

The Dogcatcher's house was on the outskirts of town. They parked the truck and went inside, the Dogcatcher starting a fire in the fireplace to ward off the cold outside.

"So, kid, what were you doing in that place to begin with?" the Dogcatcher asked as he poured two shots of vodka for them and passed one to Johann.

"I killed my mother," Johann answered, looking at the clear liquor in his glass.

The Dogcatcher, who was about to take his shot, stopped short. "Pardon?"

Johann looked up from his glass. "She died giving birth to me."

The Dogcatcher nodded, now understanding. "I see. So, you went from the orphanage to the reformatory, and...what's next? Jail? Prison? Is that where you see yourself? Because, that looks like the path that your on here, boy."

Johann glared at him, leaving the drink untouched. "Are you going help me, or just sit there and patronize me?"

The Dogcatcher took his shot and looked at Johann seriously, then stood up. "You asked for it." He turned to grab his coat. "Come on then, boy."

He led Johann out to the back of his house, where there was a large metal cage holding several barking and growling dogs in it. There was another tied to a stake in the yard itself. The Dogcatcher grabbed a long, heavy wooden pole that was leaning against the back of his house and made his way over to the tied up dog. He took up the pole and swung it down hard, breaking the dog's back in a single swing. He then dropped the pole and drew his blade, dropping to one knee to swiftly slit the dog's throat. The dog twitched a few times and tried to make noise but could not make anything more that a choking sound. A moment later, it stilled and the life left its eyes.

Johann had watched all of this with a mixture of horror and fascination. The Dogcatcher stood up and held the pole and blade out to him. "Your turn," he said. Johann's eyes grew wide. He took the tools and the Dogcatcher walked over to his truck.

The Dogcatcher opened the back of the truck and reached inside, grabbing the dog by the scruff of his neck and carried him over. "This one should be easier than that one. Much smaller." He held up the dog for Johann to see.

Johann's eyes grew wider in horror. It was Dieter's puppy. The puppy whined as the Dogcatcher knelt to tie it to the stake and then drug the other, dead, dog away. He turned back to find Johann still had not made his move. He smirked and walked back, patting Johann on the shoulder. "Just like I thought." He knelt down and untied the puppy. He then took the puppy to the cage. "congratulations, boy. You may have been raised by wolves, but you are still a human being. Though, I can't say that that is necessarily gonna help you much in this world." He closed the cage with the puppy inside and began to walk back to his truck. "I've got to get back to work now. You can thank me later." He then left.

Johann knelt down by the cage, and the puppy came to the bars, sniffing at the hand that he had extended. It barked in recognition and began to wag its tail. Johann smiled down at it. "Good boy."

A loud growl was heard, then the puppy was attacked from all sides by the much bigger, more vicious dogs that were in the cage with it. The puppy yelped in pain as the dogs, four of them, tore into its hide with their razor-like teeth.

"NO!" Johann screamed. He took up the pole and threw open the cage. The dogs, turned their attention on the boy and leapt at him. Johann saw red as he swung the pole, smashing the dogs in their jaws. Again and again he lashed out at them, aiming to maim and kill the wretched beasts. Finally, all of the dogs lay, broken and bloodied at his feet, whimpering and whining in pain. With a sadistic gleam in his eyes, Johann took up the blade that he had dropped and began stabbing the animals repeatedly in the stomach and chest. He did not stop until each of them lay dead.

He stepped over to the puppy, his eyes misting with tears. Thunder rumbled overhead and it began to rain. He dropped to his knees beside the dying pup and picked it up, cradling it in his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered to it, his voice raw with emotion as he fought back tears. The puppy gave a yip in pain and bit Johann's hand, making him drop him. The puppy fell back to the ground, where it lay, breathing heavily, then fell completely still. Johann let the tears fall and stood. He took the dagger and sheathed it, then walked away from the Dogcatcher's home, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

**Berlin, Germany, November 1926.**

Johann snuck up to the fruit stand while the owner had stepped away. He quickly grabbed several ripe, red apples, his eyes darting around in fear, searching to make sure that the coast was still clear. As he grabbed another apple, a snippet of conversation reached his ears from the street beyond the stand.

"The Nazis are already gone and the nation is almost back to normal. People have money, they have _confidence_. Soon enough, we'll be completely back on our feet, so who the devil cares what Hitler has to say?"

Johann looked up, hearing this, his eyes seeking the speaker. He leveled his blue-eyed gaze on a man and a young girl standing a few feet away, facing away from him. The man was tall, with dark hair, seeming to be in his late thirties, and the girl, also dark haired, most likely his daughter, wore thin-framed round glasses and appeared to be around thirteen. As he watched, they moved further away from him. He shrugged and grabbed another apple, then ran off down a back alley, his loot safely tucked away in his jacket.

He rounded a corner and came to a halt, finding a group of four boys blocking his path. One of the boys, obviously the leader of this little pack, stepped forward, his dark hair falling out from beneath his cap. "Just where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked.

Johann glared back. "What the hell do you care?"

Instead of answering, the boy balled a fist and punched Johann hard in the mouth, his knuckles also hitting his nose, sending him sprawling onto his back, his apples falling from his jacket to scatter on the dirty alley floor. "My name, is Bormann, and this is my street. I run it. So, if you steal on this street," he kicked Johann hard in the ribs, "you steal from _me_." Another swift kick followed these words. "Now, hand over all the money you have. Come on! Now!"

Johann crawled back to his knees and reached toward his pocket, ignoring the blood that was pouring out of his nose and lip.

Bormann nodded. "That's it, nice and eas-"

His words were cut short when Johann lunged at him, drawing the knife at his side and slashing out at the older boy. The blade had been aimed for his throat, but Bormann managed to get his arm up and the blade sliced into the skin of his forearm. Bormann jumped back hissing in pain, he then smirked at Johann. "So, the little rat bites."

One of the other boys circled around behind him. "A little Gypsy rat by the looks of his clothes," he sneered. "Maybe a _Jew_ rat."

Johann kept his knife at the ready as he looked at the boy with disdain. "My name is Schmidt, I'm German."

Bormann smirked again and drew a knife of his own from inside his own jacket. "Well, then God help the Fatherland." He then lunged at Johann, aiming to gut him.

Johann saw the move coming and leaped back, elbowing one of the other boys in the face, and then breaking into a run through the breach he had created. He sprinted down the alley and out toward the street, ducking behind a bit of wall that jutted out passed the end of a building. He stopped, waiting to hear the group of boys run by. He heard them pass, but one of them ran down toward where he was hiding. Johann prepared himself, then struck out, blindsiding the boy as he came into view. The boy dropped, but one of the others had doubled back and saw him. "HE'S OVER HERE!"

Johann cursed and ran out into the crowded street, ducking in amongst the crowd, hoping to lose his pursuers. He ran until his sides hurt, coming to a stop outside some storefronts. He struggled to catch his breath and froze when he heard Bormann's voice behind him. "Where the hell did he go?"

"I don't know," one of the other boys answered, his voice confused. "You were the one in the lead the whole ti-"

"Shut up," Bormann snapped, irritated.

Johann looked back, then ran to one of the stores, hurriedly closing the door behind him, locking it with a solid click. He leaned his back against the door and breathed a sigh of relief, sliding down to sit on the floor.

The sound of sniffling reached his ears and he slowly regain his feet, making his way toward the sound. He rounded a corner, finding the man and girl that he had seen earlier; it was girl who was crying. From what he could hear of their conversation, the girl had had a run in with some Nazis.

He frowned and entered the room they were in. The girl saw him and gasped. The man turned to see what was wrong and spoke up. "Sorry, young man, but the store is closed right now." He looked closer, seeing Johann's bloodstained face, and his features grew grim. "Oh, dear." He took Johann's face in his hands and turned him to get a better look. "Who did this to you, boy? Nazis? The Red Front?"

Johann was unsure how to answer and cast his eyes around for something to help him out. His eyes fell on a small green plaque bearing the Star of David, hanging on the wall. "Nazis," he lied, speaking softly.

The Storekeeper 'tsk'ed and shook his head. "So, you're one of those 'Mighty Liberators', huh? You seem a bit young to be a communist."

Johann shook his head. "No. I'm not with them," he said, referring to the Red Front. "My mother was Jewish," he lied sighed before continuing the lie, looking down at his feet in feigned sadness. "When she died, my grandparents threw me out on the streets. I've been trying to scrape by out there, but the Brownshirts...the Nazis, they..." he trailed off, acting as if he did not want to talk about what they 'did' to him.

The Shopkeeper sighed and raised his hand, reaching out ot place it on Johann's shoulder. Johann flinched back at the sudden movement. The Shopkeeper drew his hand back, uncertainly. "Don't worry, boy, no one is going to hurt you here." He looked at the dried blood on Johann's face. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and I'll make some soup."

Johann nodded and followed him to the washroom. After cleaning up, the Shopkeeper stayed true to his word and made a pot of soup. When it was done, he set out three bowls, and motioned for Johann to join him and his daughter, whom he learned was name Esther, though she preferred to be called Emmy.

He wolfed down the food with gusto, barely stopping to breathe or drink from the glass of water that had been provided for him as well. The Shopkeeper and Emmy watched him with a sort of amusement. "Slow down," Emmy told him in joking concern. He looked up confused. "You're gonna bite off one of your own fingers if you aren't careful."

Johann cocked his head, then snorted, his lips quirking at the absurdity of the statement. The rest of the meal passed in simple conversation, with Emmy doing most of the talking, telling of how her mother had died when she was young and other things until the Shopkeeper, who had excused himself from the table after finishing his own food, came back and called Johann away so that he could show him where he'd be sleeping. Johann wasn't sure when it had been decided that he would stay there, but was not going to argue the point; anything was better than the streets.

Night had fallen and Johann laid awake in the bed made for him on the ground floor when there was a light tapping on the window across the room. He looked over and his eyes grew wide when he saw Bormann standing on the other side. The glass was slightly cracked and the older boy's voice could be heard easily. "Hey, Schmidt." Johann grabbed his knife from where he had hidden it under his pillow and stood up, approaching the window. Bormann smirked. "Calm down, Schmidt, I'm not here to fight you." Seeing Johann's curious expression, he continued. "I must say that I'm impressed, Schmidt. Not many, and certainly not any of my boys, could have gotten into such a sweet spot so quickly. And, that Jew girl is pretty ready for it, ain't she?" He raised his brows suggestively, making Johann frown. Bormann missed this and kept going. "When you're done, save a bit for me, eh?" He looked down at his nails. "The old man's gotta have a stash hidden somewhere in there, I just know it; all of these damned Jews are hoarders, packing and packing it away. Like rats. So, keep your eyes open, Schmidt, and remember: you work for me now. I'll be watching you." With that, he left.

Weeks passed, and Johann found himself growing fond of the shop and its inhabitants, particularly Emmy, but there was always a dark cloud that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Whenever he would leave the shop, Bormann would be there, watching him from alleyways and from amongst the crowds, always like an unwanted, menacing shadow that he could not shake. One night, he had snuck from his bed and into the shop, prying open the register with his knife. He peered inside, looking at the wads of money inside. He felt tempted to take it, but forced that down and closed the register with a shake of his head. He went back to his bed, but stopped when he found the Shopkeeper watching him from the doorway. Strangely, he had not gotten into any trouble for what he had almost done, instead the Shopkeeper had told him that he should have taken the money. It was his reason why that would stay with Johann for the rest of his life. "Who gets ahead in this world, the way it is now? Whoever is the strongest. It doesn't matter if he's right or wrong, he gets to make the rules and keep the weak right where they are. But it isn't going to be like this forever. People like us, people like _you_, Johann, we're going to make it better." After finishing their drinks of vodka, which Johann choked on and spit out, they went their separate ways back to their beds, with the parting words, "Good man, Johann." The Shopkeeper had not even realized that Johann had had his knife ready to kill him if the conversation had taken a turn for the worst.

It was in March of 1927 that things changed. The Nazis and the Red Front had erupted into fighting in the train station. The police had escorted the communists from to jail and the Nazis, still on a high from their 'victory' moved further into the city, looking for trouble. Johann, Emmy and the Shopkeeper had been in the market buying food when they came. Bormann, who had, as usual, been watching Johann from the crowd, pointed in their direction, declaring to the Nazis that they were Jews. The Shopkeeper had told them to run, and for Johann to protect Emmy, making him promise; Johann did not hesitate. He had grabbed Emmy by the hand and pulled her along behind him as he ran back to the shop. Once inside, he locked the door and waited, while Emmy was screaming that they had to go back and help her father. "No," Johann had said, "He told me to protect you, and that's what I'm going to do."

"But you're just a boy! What can you do?! You can't-"

Johann drew his knife and raised it, the blade flashing in the light. "Yes, I can."

Emmy's eyes grew wide. "_Gott im Himmel_..."

Johann turned back to the door, peering out the window in time to see Bormann and the rest of his gang walk up. "Alright, Schmidt, it's time. Open up and let's have some _fun_."

Johann growled but Emmy immediately grew angry. "You, you're one _them_?!"

Johann turned to look at her. "What? No."

"All this time, you've just been waiting. We trusted you! We let you into our home!" She said all of this with a mixture of strong fear, anger and a hint of sadness.

Johann turned to he and reached for her. "No, Emmy, you don't understand!"

She slapped his hand away and then shoved him hard in the chest. "Get away from me!" He stumbled back, his head striking the wall, drawing blood.

Johann growled and she tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist in his free hand. "Dammit! I'm with _you_!"

Just then a brick broke through the large window at the front of the store. Bormann came through first and Johann attacked immediately, his knife slicing through the older boy's throat. Bormann dropped to the ground, his blood spraying out from the wound as he lay choking on his own blood, until he finally fell still. The other boys saw their leader fall and ran away, and Emmy screamed, seeing the blood pooling around the dead boy.

Johann calmly wiped the blood from his knife. "I promised...to protect you." He looker her in the eyes. "I promised." She screamed again and something snapped inside of Johann. His vision when red and he lashed out, striking her in the side of the head. She fell to the floor crying, which only enraged him more. He raised his foot and stomped down on her head, then again, and again, until she stopped moving. The red began to recede from his vision and his rage was replaced by guilt and sudden nausea. His stomach heaved and he turned away from the sight, breathing heavily. He stumbled away to lean against the shop counter. He stood there with his eyes closed, the image of him stomping the life from Emmy playing over and over in his mind's eye. The more times he replayed it, the more his guilt and nausea lessened, until he was almost numb, then he began to become joyed by it. He opened his eyes and turned back to the sight, seeing her broken skull and the great pool of blood. He smiled. He turned to the register and pried it open with his knife, as he had done before. He gathered all of the money and left the store, stepping through the broken window instead of the door and walked off down the street, counting the money as he went. He stopped short when he saw the Shopkeeper laying, bloodied, in the street.

"Johann...is that you?"

Johann knelt by the man and reached out, placing his hand gently on his face. He closed his eyes, his guilt returning as the elation began to dissipate. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He then stood up and began to walk away, letting the money fall from his hand as he walked, suddenly not feeling like keeping it.

**Berlin, Germany, 1933. February - December.**

Johann had worked for a few local gang bosses, doing whatever dirty work they needed done in exchange for cash. It was after one of these jobs that he ran into a group of communists marching through the streets. At the head, was a tall blonde boy his own age. It didn't take long for him to recognize the boy as Dieter, his old friend from the reformatory. When the Nazis had come in and attacked them for being communists, Johann had stepped in and help Dieter fight them off, then they had retreated to an old warehouse that Dieter was living in with a few other boys that supported the communists.

On February 27, Marinus van der Lubbe, a Dutch leftist, is arrested and takes credit for starting the fire that burned the Reichstag, claiming to have been working alone. Chancellor Adolf Hitler and Reich Minister Without Portfolio, Hermann Göring immediately declare the fire the first step in a communist uprising and order the Brownshirts to gather up all communists. The next day, President von Hindenburg signs the Reichstag Fire Decree, suspending _habeas corpus_, freedom of press, freedom to organize and privacy of post and telephone communication. Thousands of communists are arrested, including Dieter.

On March 5th, the Nazis win forty-four percent of the vote, short of a majority and the communists win twelve percent of the vote, but all of its deputies have already been arrested. On March 23rd, the Reichstag passes the Enabling Act, giving Chancellor Adolf Hitler the power to make laws. Before the month is out, Dachau, the first of Germany's concentration camps, is established and the communists are moved within. On June 21, 1933, the Social Democratic Party is outlawed and the arrest of socialists is ordered. Three-thousand socialists are arrested and another ninety-one are murdered in the streets. By the end of the year, as many as one-hundred and thirty thousand communists have been arrested and around two-thousand and five-hundred murdered. From January to may 1933, one-point-six million German citizens join the Nazi Party, including Johann Schmidt.

He was part of the _Sturmabteilung_, a group of infantry that was more for a show of numbers than an actual army, not even carrying guns or knives. Johann, dissatisfied by this, attempts to join the SS, but is rejected and beaten by several of their members. In December, 1933, Dieter, along with many other communists are released from Dachau, under the threat of death if they ever spoke of what had happened within its confines. He meets back up with his old friends, the few that had managed to avoid capture, and Johann, who is planning to quit the _Sturmabteilung_, and also plans to kill Hitler in retaliation for his treatment at the hands of the SS.

**Munich, Germany, June 1934.**

Johann and Dieter walked through the front doors of the Hotel Hanselbauer, where Hitler was to take up residence for the night, to visit a sick former officer of his name Röhm, more than likely to fire him, at least that was what the drunken Nazi commander that he had talked to had said, before he had gutted him and left him to bleed out in an alleyway. They had learned that Röhm had set up the _Führer_ in the room directly across from him and made preparations with the room service to bring Hitler special meals. This would be their way in.

The man behind the counter looked up from his newspaper at their entrance. "Hey, where do you think you two are going?"

Johann, who was in the lead, answered, adjusting his grip on the small suitcase he had in his hand. "Um, Röhm sent for us."

The Innkeeper shook his head with thinly veiled disgust. "Right. You look like his type." He sighed. "He's on the second floor. Look for the door with the most bottles in front of it."

Johann nodded. "Will do." When they reached the second floor, it wasn't hard to find where Röhm was staying, there were at least seven liquor bottles in front of the door. Johann looked at them and smirked. "Right. So, he's there. And," he turned to the door opposite, across the wide hallway, "the _F__ührer _is there." He walked over to the door beside the room Hitler would be in and grabbed the handle. "This one should be empty." He pushed it open and peered inside. "Perfect."

The two hurried inside and Dieter locked the door. Johann dropped the suitcase on the bed and opened it while Dieter looked out the window, spying a boat out on the river outside the hotel. He nodded. "Our boys are in place, waiting for us, as planned."

Johann nodded. "Good. Don't wave, you idiot."

Dieter ignored him and took the bellhop uniform from the suitcase. "So, do you...uh...do you really think we can pull this off and make it to the boat?"

"Who's 'we'?" Johann asked.

Dieter's eyes grew wide. "What?"

Johann shook his head. "You're the bellboy, you'll walk right out the front door."

Dieter opened his mouth. "Hang on-"

"Shut up," Johann snapped, pulling on a cap and jacket that had also been in the suitcase. "Let go over this again. When the meeting starts, you take in some water and refreshments. You scope out the room, and when you come back out, you tell me _exactly_ where Hitler is sitting. Then, you leave."

Dieter, pulled on the bellboy jacket, still unsure. "I-I don't get-"

"What is there to get?" Johann asked. "You're a coward, Dieter. You were a coward back at the reformatory. You were a coward back in Berlin, and you're a coward now. You would never pull the trigger." He reached down and grabbed the pistol from the bottom of the suitcase, checking to make sure that it was loaded, then stuffed it in his jacket.

Dieter opened his mouth to defend himself, but the sound of cars pulling up outside stopped him.

Johann sighed in frustration. "They're early." He went to the door and peered out as several men came up the stairs, yelling for Röhm and his men to come out. A few men came out of their rooms, demanding to know what was going on, only to be beaten down by the men.

"What the hell is going on?" Dieter asked.

"The SS and _Gestapo_, Hitler's private guard, they're arresting the Röhm's _Sturmabteilung_." Johann told him. Then his demeanor changed and he stepped out and round on Dieter, his hand drawing the pistol and pointing it at the blonde's head. "Hands up!"

Dieter's eyes grew wide. "Wha...?!"

"I said _hands up_!" Johann growled, placing his finger on the trigger.

One of the _Gestapo_ came up behind them. "What's going on here?"

Johann lowered the gun, slowly. "Nothing. Just a bellboy. We're all clear here."

"Make way! The _F__ührer_ is coming!"

Hitler walked up the stairs, wearing a dark coat with his dark hair neatly combed. One of the men that the SS had arrested tried to speak. "_Mein Führer-_" One of the SS struck him in the back of the head as Hitler glared at the man.

"Do not speak, traitor," Hitler said.

The _Gestapo_ man spoke next. "They deny any plot, but to be sure, we'll take them back to Munich and-"

"No," Hitler interrupted. "Shoot them."

The men saluted and began to drag the men away. They also drug Röhm from his room and took him out with the others. A few moments later, a series of gunshots rung out from outside, signalling that the _F__ührer_'s orders had been carried out.

One of the SS turned to Johann. "Get that boy out of here, now."

Johann nodded. "Yes, sir."

Johann grabbed Dieter by the arm and pulled him roughly down the hall. "Wait!" They came to a stop as one of the _Gestapo_ came up to them. Johann's fingers itched to go for his gun, in case they had been found out. "Röhm said that he ordered food for the _Führer_. You know anything about that, boy?" he asked Dieter.

Dieter nodded. "Yes. I mean: Yes, sir."

The man nodded. "Then go get it."

Johann and Dieter breathed a sigh of relief when the man followed Hitler into his room. They hurried down to the kitchens, where the cooks were looking around worriedly, having heard the gunfire."Get out! All of you! Go!" Johann yelled as they entered. He turned to Dieter. "You too, bellhop."

The kitchen staff all ran out, but Dieter shook his head as he took off his hat. "To hell with that! What the hell is wrong with you? He was four feet from you and you just stood there!"

Johann glared. "We weren't ready for them to all just come in like that. You were to close and they would have killed us both."

"Yeah? Well who the hell asked you to save my life?! Huh?!" Dieter slammed his hand against the wall. "When you look at me, you still the little boy from the reformatory, crying over a sick puppy." Johann flinched at this, remembering holding that same puppy in his arms as it died from the wounds inflicted by the other dogs. His hand shook, so he clenched his fist and ground his teeth. Dieter did not notice any of this. "I spent six months in Dachau, in _hell_! I don't care what happens, not today. Today, I'm going to be like you, Johann." He took off the bellhop uniform and tossed it to Johann. "Just give me that damned gun."

Johann looked at the clothes in his arms and then back to Dieter, then quietly nodded. They traded clothes, Johann now acting as the bellboy, and Dieter now the shooter. With a bit of hesitation, Johann handed over the gun.

Johann gathered the food that had been prepared by the kitchen staff and placed it on a tray, then covered it. He picked up the tray and nodded to Dieter and they made their way back up to the second floor. An SS guard was posted outside the door and stopped them. "The _Führer_'s breakfast," Dieter told him. He nodded and opened the door, after telling them to be quick.

Johann entered first and took the tray over to where Hitler was seated, and uncovered the food. Dieter drew the gun from his jacket and pointed it at the _Führer_. "_Heil Hitler_."

For Johann, time seemed to stand still and he was suddenly reliving memories. He saw the puppy again, alive, licking his fingers through the Dogcatcher's cage, then he saw Emmy, smiling at him as they ate dinner, then the Shopkeeper. _"Good man, Johann. Good man."_

Time blurred back to reality and he snapped his arm out, knocking the gun upward, just as Dieter pulled the trigger. The bullet flew up into the ceiling, harmlessly. Johann grabbed the gun and wrenched it from Dieter's hand. Dieter looked at Johann in shock and fear. "What the-"

"Shut up, traitor!" Johann growled and struck Dieter across the mouth.

Dieter stumbled back and Johann pointed the gun at his head. "Oh, _Gott..._"

Johann closed his eyes as he felt tears sting his eyes and his finger pulled the trigger. He opened his eyes just as the bullet struck Dieter's forehead, then exploded out the back of his head in a spray of blood and brains. He watched Dieter fall in slow motion, his blue eyes frozen in a pleading expression, silently asking Johann 'why?". Johann had no answer for him, only that something had been telling him to act.

He was snapped back to reality when an SS officer tackled him to the ground. He landed with a dull thud and a pained groan. His head was pressed to the ground and a gun placed to the back of his head, but all Johann could see were Dieter's eyes staring back at him from his own place on the floor. He clenched his eyes shut, fighting back the well of tears, forcing himself to go numb. He opened them again as the SS officer began barking questions at him. "Who are you?! Talk, you piece of shit, or I swear I'll blow your brains all over the floor!"

"Wait."

Everyone turned as Hitler stood from his seat and walked over to where Johann was laying. "Let him up."

The officer let him go and Johann struggled to his knees. He looked up at Hitler, seeing those dark eyes looking down at him as if they could see into his very soul. In that moment, the words of the Shopkeeper came back to him, and he had an answer to that question in Dieter's dead eyes. _"Who gets ahead in this world, the way it is now? Whoever is the strongest. It doesn't matter if he's right or wrong, he gets to make the rules and keep the weak right where they are. But it isn't going to be like this forever. People like us, people like you, Johann, we're going to make it better."_

From that moment on, he was at the personal command of Hitler, and soon rose to be the most feared man in the Third Reich, the Red Skull.

**XXXX**

**A/N: Alright. That just about covers it. The first chapter is done. It was really long, so I hope you were able to bear with me in this, and I hope you enjoyed it, just as I hope that I was able to give you a decent insight into the life and mind of Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull. Next chapter will pick up in modern time with Loki and Natasha. **

**It should be noted that, originally, all of the dialogue in this chapter was going to be in German, but I decided against this for two reasons: 1) My German is a bit rusty, and I did not want to have to hassle with a translator 2) I did not want all of my readers to have to sit there and try to translate as they read the chapter, so I kept it mainly in English, with bits of German mixed in.**

**Review, but don't flame.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**


	2. Lingering Doubts

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed the first chapter, and to those that have stuck with me this long. Sorry for taking so long to update. It took me a while to get this chapter to where I was happy with it.**

**Alright, chapter two. This picks up a short time after Redemption ended. It sets the stage for the rest of the story. I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope it was worth the wait.**

**Resistance**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter II: Lingering Doubts**

**'Relax, the inanimate objects will not hurt you, I promise. Relax, the inanimate objects will not hurt you, I promise. I am here to make sure. I am here to make sure. Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Close your big brown eyes and just dream.'**

**- Loki's Lullaby by Kate Mann.**

Loki, the Lord of Lies and Mischief, Prince of Asgard, walked slowly through the royal gardens, his eyes looking at, but not seeing the beautiful scenery around him. His mind, cunning and sometimes devious, was elsewhere, lost in thought. His feet moved of their own will and he let them lead him where they will. For the past week, he had been feeling that something was about to happen, something big, and not necessarily good. He just couldn't place what. It had been bothering him, but he had managed to hide it from the others, particularly Natasha. He didn't want to worry her. He sighed and pushed those thoughts away as he continued to walk.

Faintly, he could just make out the sounds of steel on steel from somewhere up ahead of him on the path. He ignored this, until he was so near to the source that he could no longer hear his own thoughts over the din of combat. His sharp, green-blue eyes focused in on the sight before him and his lips quirked as he sighed.

Up ahead of him, Thor was sparing against Hogun and Fandral, while Sif, Volstagg and Natasha sat nearby, under the branches of his tree, watching and commenting on the forms and techniques of the combatants. Every once in a while, they would call out pointers and suggestions to the fighters, to the help or harm of said fighters.

As he approached, Natasha called out to Fandral and Hogun. "Watch your left!" Just as she said this, Thor, who had been fighting without a weapon, having thrown Mjolnir earlier in the fight, called his mighty hammer back to him, clipping both of his opponents from the left side, sending them toppling to the ground, where they lay sprawled in the dirt. Natasha groaned and winced along with a laughing Sif as the warriors yielded to their stronger friend.

"You two are going to have to do better than that if you want to ever have a hope of beating Thor," Volstagg told them.

Fandral shot him a mock glare. "You think you can do better?!"

Volstagg refrained from answering and instead looked away, humming to himself.

Loki walked up behind them and leaned against his tree with his hand folded together in front of him as he watched them all interact, none but Natasha noticing his arrival. She looked back at him with a smile. He returned the smile, then she winked and turned back to the others, leaving Loki to wonder what was going through her head. He suddenly had a bad feeling.

Natasha looked at the Warriors. "I'll bet Loki could do better than you against Thor."

Loki felt his stomach sink and his eyes grow wide. _**What?!**_ Natasha looked back at him with a smirk. Loki glared back, but she was unfazed by this. The others followed her eyes, looking mildly surprised that they had not noticed his arrival. Thor grinned. "What do you say, brother? Dare to go a round?"

Loki opened his mouth to decline, but stopped short of uttering the words. He cocked his head, thinking about the idea. Everyone always assumed that he was weak, and that he was no match for someone like Thor in combat, perhaps he could prove them wrong, after all, he still had his tricks to fall back on. "Alright."

Thor grinned wider as Loki stepped out into the open area that acted as their sparing ring. "The rules?" Thor asked.

"How about hand to hand, no weapons," Sif suggested.

Loki and Thor nodded and Thor set Mjolnir aside. They each settled into ready positions, waiting for the fight to begin. Sif was about to tell them to begin, but Natasha interrupted. "Wait! No magic either. It has to be a fair fight."

Loki felt dread come over him. No magic? Was she trying to get him killed? A hand to hand fight with Thor, who was bigger and physically stronger than he was, and he could not rely on his magic, was suicide. He turned to look at her, one brow arched, to see her raise her eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he had a problem. He could see the smirk growing on her face and sighed, shaking his head in resignation as he turned back to face Thor.

He was glad they weren't wearing armor, and instead in tunics, because he did not fancy the idea of punching Thor's breastplate, it _was_ nigh unbreakable.

The two brother's faced off, and Sif announced the start of the match. Thor leapt forward and grabbed Loki by his shoulders. Loki's eyes grew wide as he was lifted off the ground and thrown. He managed to twist himself in midair and land with his feet on the ground, then charged back in and swung his fist at Thor's face. Thor leaned back to avoid the punch, and countered with one of his own, which was blocked by Loki's forearm.

Loki raised his knee into Thor's stomach, slightly winding the bigger man, but not enough to keep him from grabbing him and slamming him down onto the ground, hard. Loki kicked out with his foot, taking Thor's knee from beneath him and send him to the ground as well. Both brothers rolled away from each other and returned to their ready positions.

As they were fighting, the others were watching and commenting, with Fandral trying to make bets. "Two bottles of Mead says that Thor wins," he said.

Natasha spoke up. "I'll take that bet."

"It's not really a fair bet, we all know that Thor's going to win," Volstagg said.

Sif smiled. "Yeah, but Natasha has to bet on Loki. It's an unspoken rule."

Natasha's face remained blank but she shook her head. "I have complete faith in him. He can beat his brother."

"Without his magic?" Fandral scoffed. "Unlikely."

"Unlikely," Natasha conceded, "but not impossible."

As Natasha said this, Thor was leveled by a well-placed kick to the chest from Loki, but when he landed, he reached out and pulled Loki's feet from beneath him. The Trickster landed on his back with a grunt and Thor took advantage of his winded state and jumped on top of his brother, pummeling him with well-aimed punches. Loki brought his arms up to protect his face, and Thor switched to body shots.

Loki growled, wishing he could use his magic to get out of this, but alas, he could not; he may not care much for honor, but he would play by the rules, this time. He was trying to figure out how to get out from under Thor, when he remembered some of Natasha's fighting techniques. He lifted his legs up and hooked them around Thor's head, one behind his head and the other in front, around his neck. He then pulled his legs back down with Thor's head still trapped between them.

Thor struggled for a moment, then, in a moment of intuition, rolled with the movement and landed in a crouch with Loki's legs still around his head. He grabbed Loki's legs and planted his feet, then stood, lifting his brother off the ground, then slamming him back down onto his back.

The landing knocked the breath from Loki and he was forced to loosen his grip on Thor, who slipped out of Loki's head-scissors and dropped down to put Loki in a head-lock. Loki groaned and adjusted himself so that he could deliver sharp, hard elbows back into Thor's ribs. After a few of these, Thor was forced to released him and the two squared off again.

Loki reached up and wiped a thin line of blood away from his mouth, from where one of Thor's punches had broken the skin. He dared anyone to say that they didn't give their all in training, because they never pulled punches.

"Ready to give up yet, brother?" Thor asked, smiling.

Loki smirked. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

The two went at each other again, throwing lightening-fast punches and kicks, each either missing or being blocked, though every once in a while, one would sneak through and reach its target. Loki swung at Thor's face, but Thor ducked under it, coming up behind his sibling, and sent a series of jabs into Loki's unprotected kidneys and ribs. Loki growled and spun around, his elbow aim at Thor's head, but he again missed and Thor speared him to the ground with his shoulder in his younger brother's abdomen. As soon and they hit the ground, Thor grabbed both of Loki's arms and held them together. with his knee firmly holding Loki's head to the ground. Loki kicked and squirmed, trying desperately to get out of his predicament, but Thor was stronger and held him down. Finally Loki stopped struggling.

"Give up yet?" Thor asked.

Loki growled but sighed."Yes, Thor. I yield."

Thor grinned and let his brother go, then helped him up. "Well fought, brother." He offered his hand for Loki to shake. Loki rolled his eyes and took it, then pulled Thor to him, headbutted him, kicking his legs from under him at the same time, then walked back to the tree, smirking. Thor looked up at him. "What was that? The match was over!"

Loki shrugged. "God of Mischief, remember? I have a reputation to uphold." He continued to smirk. "You should have seen that coming."

Thor groaned and let his head fall back, knowing that his brother was right. He blew out a breath of air. Then looked at his brother with a grin, his eyes shining. "I still won though."

Loki rolled his eyes and let his head fall back to rest against the trunk of the tree. "Unsurprisingly," he muttered.

"Well, looks like you owe me two bottles of Mead, Lady Romanoff," Fandral boasted with a smile.

Natasha waved him off with a smile, but it did not reach her eyes. Loki narrowed his eyes, studying his beloved as she seemed to suddenly distance herself from her surroundings. He frowned and decided that he would have to talk to her, and find out what was bothering her.

He pushed off from the tree as the rest of the group stood up and began making their way toward the palace, with Volstagg in the lead declaring that he was hungry. Natasha rose slowly and made to follow. Loki was about to call out to her, when Thor spoke first. "Brother, stay a moment."

Loki raised a brow at his brother, then turned back to Natasha, who had looked back at him when Thor had spoken. She smiled lightly at him and he returned the gesture with a tilt of his head, silently asking if everything was alright. She simply smiled again and followed Sif and the Warriors Three out of the garden.

Loki walked over to stand beside Thor. "What is it, Thor?"

Thor sighed and looked up at the branches of the tree. "You remember what day this is?" he asked.

Loki thought for a moment, trying to remember if their was something important that he had forgotten for the day. After a moment, it came to him. His lips formed a sad frown and he closed his eyes, his heart becoming heavy with guilt. "Yes," he spoke softly.

Thor nodded solemnly. "I was going to visit his memorial stone today. Would you care to accompany me?"

Loki sighed. Every year, since that day, Thor had gone to visit the memorial stone that they had carved for their fallen brother, always asking Loki if he wished to accompany him. Loki had always declined, preferring not to intrude on Thor's mourning. He would wait until nightfall to visit, so that he could be alone, able to let his true emotions show through and spill past the surface. He would openly weep and beg eternally for forgiveness, but no answer would come. This was all usually preceded by Loki speaking as though Balder were really there and could hear him, as though his brother was there for him to confide his deepest, darkest fears and thoughts in. He had done this for hundreds of years, and he would not change it now, even if he no longer felt the deep-seeded jealousy for Thor and the unbridled rage toward Odin for treating him as less than important in comparison to his eldest.

He shook his head. "No. I don't think so, Thor. Not this time."

Thor nodded, having been expecting this. "Going to pay one of your midnight visits again?"

Loki was surprised, but did not show it, and did not bother to wonder how Thor knew of his night-time visits; he had come to learn that Thor was much brighter and intelligent than everyone gave him credit for, and his eyes, while not as keen as Loki's, saw many things that others did not.

"Yes," he uttered, lowering his eyes to the place where the roots of his tree disappeared under the ground. Thor nodded again, then opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if unsure how to begin. Loki saw this and narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Thor grimaced, then spoke. "I know that it is not my place, but I cannot help but notice. Have you noticed anything off about Natasha recently? She seems quieter than usual, and when she smiles, it seems forced."

Loki was again surprised at how observant Thor was, seeing that Loki had not noticed until just moments before. "I have. I was going to speak to her this evening and see if I can get her to tell me what is wrong."

Thor nodded and stroked his beard in thought. "It has been four weeks since our friends all went back to Midgard. Perhaps she is just homesick."

Loki frowned and ran a hand through his hair. "Perhaps."

He hoped that was all that was wrong, though he doubted it.

**XXXX**

Night was beginning to fall and Loki entered his room, having just come up from dinner. He was a bit worried, as Natasha had left the table early, claiming that she did not feel well. Loki had made to follow her, but she insisted that he stay and finish his meal. He had reluctantly done so.

Now, he was determined to get to the bottom of whatever problem was plaguing Natasha. When he stepped into the room, he immediately cast his eyes about for her, finding her laying on his bed, their bed really, they had shared it since she had decided to stay on Asgard with him. She had one of his many books in her hands, one of the few that was written in english rather than the old runic language that they used on Asgard. She could read some of these, but not many, as Loki had yet to finish teaching her about their written language, it was a difficult dialect to learn, but she was making quick progress; not that that surprised him.

The red-haired beauty looked over at him as he closed the door, her lips tilting up at the corners in a ghost of a smile. Loki only frowned more. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. She set her book aside and looked up at him as he reached out and brushed a stray lock of her hair out of her face gently. He then leaned down and gave her a soft kiss, which she returned without hesitation. After a short moment, he pulled back. "You feeling alright?" he asked.

Natasha nodded, her smile a bit brighter now. "I'm fine."

Loki's eyes narrowed a bit as he studied her for any signs of deception. "You sure? You seemed a bit pale at dinner. What's wrong?"

Natasha shook her head. "Just felt a little sick to my stomach," she told him truthfully. "I'm sure that it's nothing and will pass by tomorrow," she added, seeing him frown in worry for her health.

Loki nodded. "And earlier? Out in the garden? What was bothering you then? It can't have been losing a bet with Fandral that had you down."

Natasha's smile dimmed a bit. "That? It was nothing."

"Natasha," Loki said, his tone soft and caring, but with a hidden edge, "please do not lie to me. I can tell when you do. I'm not the Lord of Lies for nothing, you know."

Natasha sighed and gazed at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, I just feel a bit...childish, about it is all."

Loki cocked his head. "About what?" Natasha sighed again, but didn't answer right away, so Loki decided to take a guess. "Is it Earth? Do you miss it?"

Natasha looked into his eyes and nodded. "Not really Earth itself, but the places, the people...my friends. It's the only home I've ever known. I guess I'm just having trouble letting go," she admitted sadly.

Loki nodded and closed his eyes, then opened them again. "Are you having doubts?" he asked. She looked confused by his question. "About us," he elaborated, trying to push his own childish insecurities back down.

Natasha's eyes widened. "No! No, not at all, Loki." She sat up in the bed so that she could look at him face to face on the same level. She placed one of her hands on his cheek, his eyes fluttering closed at the gentle caress. "I love you, Loki, and I do not regret that in the slightest.

Loki smiled and opened his eyes. "I love you too, Natasha," he whispered. "But, if you're unhappy, let me know. I only want you to be happy here, not feel like you are trapped. You are not a prisoner."

"I know," the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent assured him. Or was it ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent? Loki was unsure. "I'm not unhappy, It'll just take some time to adjust and get used to all the changes." Her face turned serious. "If I had any doubts about us, I would not have eaten that apple."

Loki smiled and kissed her again. He stood up, magically changing into his nightwear and climbed into the bed beside her. She moved over to his side and wrapped her arms around him. Loki put his own arm around her and gave her a light squeeze. "Maybe, if you take a trip back, visit your friends and such, properly say your goodbyes, and make sure you clear everything up with Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D., you may find things easier here, without the shadow of your past hanging just over your shoulder."

Natasha peered up at him, her face showing surprise. She appeared almost lost, and Loki couldn't help but smile at how...cute she looked; he would never tell her that though, seeing as she would probably try to shoot him for using that particular adjective to describe her.

Natasha blinked owlishly, then smiled. "That might work," she admitted, giving it serious thought. A chance to say goodbye to her old life would most likely help her cope with her new, immortal one. She was already noticing the differences in her own body. She was faster, stronger, and generally healthier, though her body was still adjusting to the power that the Apple of Idunn had bestowed upon her. Loki had told her that it would probably take close to a year for her to become truly immortal, given that her body would have to reconfigure itself to godhood over time. She blamed her feeling ill on this, not being able to think of anything else that it could be.

They laid in silence after that, with Natasha finally drifting off to sleep. Loki slipped from the bed and shifted his clothes into his regular Asgardian clothing, feeling completely at home in the green fabric and the black leather and the golden-bronze metal that augmented the outfit. He left the room, the ends of his long coat-like garment swaying with every step he took.

He walked out of the palace and beyond the courtyard. He walked through the dark, quiet streets of Asgard, heading out toward the shoreline, where Balder's memorial stone stood, its pale surface etched with runes that Loki himself had carved there.

He could have teleported, but he preferred to walk, the cool night air clearing his head and letting his thoughts flow seamlessly and clearly. The long walk gave him time to think.

For a time now, he had been getting this bad feeling, like something was about to go wrong; he knew that Thor felt it too, so he could not simply dismiss it as him being paranoid. He wasn't sure what had him on edge, but it was always there now, just in the back of his mind, obscured by a thin haze of fear, just out of his reach. No matter how hard he tried, he could not bring it to the forefront to properly confront it, whatever it was. It was almost like the feeling he had gotten just before learning of his true origins from Odin, when that Jotun had grabbed him and his normally pale skin had become deep blue; it felt like the same fear that he was not going to like the results, when they came.

So lost was he in his thoughts that he had not even realized that his feet had already carried him along the familiar path and he was now standing in front of the great, ten-foot tall memorial stone. It was four sided, with the sides all coming to a point at the top. Thor had carved the stone himself, and Loki had inscrided the runes in its surface. They had chosen the shorline for its placing due to Balder's love of riding with Loki and Thor there, while admiring the way the light danced across the waves and the soft sea breeze blew through his hair. He would always smile brightly at the view and laugh merrily in his bell-like tones at anything and everything.

Loki gazed up at the stone in somber silence, his heart heavy as the Asgardian moon, high above, cast a pale blue glow down on the Realm Eternal, the shadow of the stone covering Loki in a patch of shadow, the only void of darkness amidst the ethereal glow of the white sand.

He sighed, the sound loud in his ears in the stillness of the night. "Hello, brother," he began, speaking softly, his voice seeming louder than it was due to the lack of ambient noise around him; it was something that he had long grown used to out on this night, like all the others before it. "Another year has passed, two since I came here. I apologize for not having come visit you last year, I was indisposed." He chuckled lightly. "I was stuck in a tree, literally." He grew somber again. "I've done some bad things, Balder, some very bad things in the passed couple of years. Things that I am not proud of. I know that, before you died, you would have thought that Thor and I could do no wrong, and you would have been right, about Thor anyway. I wish that I could have been the man you wanted me to be, but..." He trailed off and sighed. "I will make no excuses for my behavior. I have accepted my wrongdoings and taken my punishment for them. They need not trouble me further, and I will not trouble you with them. But, things have not been all bad." He smiled to himself. "No, not bad at all. You would be proud of me, brother. I have found someone, a woman, a _remarkable_ woman, whom I care deeply for." He chuckled again. "I love her, Balder. I know that sounds strange coming from me, but...it's true."

A soft breeze began to blow out from the sea, bringing with it the clean, salty scent of Asgard's oceans. Though they were strange in comparison to Midgard's oceans, they were cleaner and did not stink of pollution.

Loki took a deep, steadying breath. "I have given her the Apple, Balder, so that she may be one of us; she was mortal, you see. When I first met her, we were enemies. I tried to conquer Midgard, I don't know if Thor mentioned any of this to you, but I felt that you should know what I've been up to; you are my brother, after all. It's funny really, that when we were enemies, I was fascinated with her. But, I was blinded by jealousy and anger and childish need, and I could not see what was in front of me. I was cruel...I was a _monster_ to her." He cleared his throat. "Yet, somehow, I got a second chance. A being, a Titan, named Thanos, came here, seeking revenge on me for leading his army to ruin. And he wanted the Tesseract, you remember that, don't you? The Cube that Father left on Midgard. Well, a group of humans had found it, and were trying to harness it. I was foolish enough to believe that I could rule them and their world, and in return for the army to do so, I would give Thanos the Tesseract. Things did not go too well for me and I was brought back here by Thor, and imprisoned in a tree by Father. When Thanos came to Asgard, I was left behind. I would have been trapped there forever, had Natasha, that is her name, Natasha Romanoff, had she not shed a tear for me, and set me free. Afterward, I took the Tesseract and I escaped to Midgard, where I met up with Thor and his friends, the Avengers," He chuckled again. "That's what they call themselves. Earth's Mightiest Heroes. I cannot fault them, they defeated me and my army. Six against thousands, and I was defeated. Pathetic, right?" He sighed and took a deep breath, fighting back the memories of his evil deeds. "But, Natasha, she gave me a chance, when no one else would. I don't know what I would have done without her, Balder. I don't know where I'd be now...most likely dead, or trying to destroy Thor and the Avengers again. But, instead, I stuck by them, by her, and we were able to defeat Thanos." He closed his eyes and blinked back a tear. "She saved me, Balder. I wish you could have met her, and she you. I think you two would have gotten along well."

The breeze shifted and Loki took a step closer to the stone, looking up at it in silence for a long moment. He turned his eyes to his boots as he thought of the feeling of dread inside him. He then looked back to Balder's stone.

"I'm scared, Balder," he said, barely keeping his voice from shaking. "I don't know what it is, but something is coming. I can feel it in my bones. Something bad is coming." He gave a frustrated scoff. "I had hoped, that after the Thanos incident, I would be able to live peacefully, with Natasha, here, on Asgard, but, I guess it's true what the mortals always say: there is no rest for the wicked." A tear leaked from his eyes and fell down his cheek to his chin, then fell to land in the sand at his feet. "I sealed my fate the moment I took your life from you. You were the purest and best of us all, and I cut you down, like you were nothing. If only I had not been so foolish, you would still be here today, and I would not be speaking to your memorial." Tears fell freely now and he choked back a sob. "I...I promised to protect you, brother, and I failed you. I failed everyone." Loki fell to his knees and openly wept. "I...am so...so sorry, brother...so very sorry..."

The breeze that was blowing increased, then slowed again, sending a chill down Loki's spine.

Loki smiled mirthlessly. "I know. I do this every year. Pathetic, isn't it?" He cleared his throat and wiped the offending tears from his eyes. "You would think that after so long, I would have come to terms with this long ago. I come out here at night, alone, so that I can speak to you without anyone else around. This is our time, mine and yours. I consider it sacred. Many in Asgard believe me to be heartless and uncaring, and the fact that I wait until night means that none see me come here, so they think even less of me on this day. I don't really care. You and I know, as does Thor, and we three are all that matter when it comes to our opinions of each other...well, Natasha as well, for me anyway. So long as we all know the truth, nothing else matters, does it?" He looked up at the moon and wiped face again, clearing it of the stray tears that were still falling. "I suppose I should be going now. Farewell, dearest brother. I will return next year, and, maybe, some day, I'll have children, and I'll bring them and their mother to meet you."

He stepped up to the stone looking down. He sighed, then gasped. "I almost forgot." He waved his hand and a bottle of golden mead appeared in his hand. "I bought this for you, brother. I know it was your favorite, from father's private stores. You used to always talk about how sweet and smooth it was." He opened the bottle and smiled sadly. He then raised it to the stone. "To you, brother." He then poured the bottle out onto the sand at the foot of the stone, saving only a single swig for himself. This was something that he had never done before, but he felt that he had to make up for missing the previous year's visit. He smiled. "You were right too. It is sweet and smooth." He vanished the bottle and placed his hand on the stone. "I love you, Balder, and miss you so much. I again beg your forgiveness, though I do not deserve it." The breeze picked up again and Loki's eyes slipped closed. "Goodbye."

Without another word, he began the long trek back to the palace, and his bedroom. The trip back did not take as long as the trip there, or so it seemed to him. He entered the palace, ignoring the few guards that had happened to be in the throne room at that time during their rounds, and continued to the hidden passage to the royal chambers. He flicked his gaze around, seeing the throne room was at its full glory. The Tesseract had done as it had said and lent its power to Odin to repair and rebuild Asgard, then Odin had returned the power again. The Tesseract was now back in the treasure room where it belonged, and Loki had not entered that room once since. The treasure room held too many memories for him. It was where he had learned the truth about who he was, and it was where his downward spiral had truly begun. Now, with the addition of the Tesseract, the Cube itself held too many reminders of his dark past than he would care to remember.

He pushed open the door to his room quietly. He changed back into his nightwear and slipped back into the bed. Natasha, who had been facing away from him, rolled over to press herself against him. Loki wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes.

"Where have you been?" Natasha asked, not opening her eyes.

Loki, who had assumed that she was still asleep, looked down at her in surprise. "Nowhere," he whispered.

Natasha's eyes snapped open, filled with suspicion. Loki could tell that she was trying to hide it, but was failing. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice more firm this time.

Loki sighed, knowing what she was thinking. He knew that he could not let her go on thinking such a thing, but he wasn't sure how to explain that he had been taking to his dead brother, or rather the stone that was raised in his honor. "I was on the beach," he answered truthfully.

Natasha's eyes narrowed, the suspicion only growing stronger. "What were you doing there? Who were you with?"

Loki frowned. "I was alone, sort of." He sighed when her eyes narrowed further. She seemed to be having trust issues. Couple that with her feeling ill, he was beginning to wonder if their was really something wrong with her. "I was with Balder."

Now Natasha conveyed confusion. "You brother?"

Loki nodded. "Yes. I was visiting his memorial. Today was the anniversary of the his death." He blinked slowly. "I visit every year, late at night when no one else is around."

Natasha deflated, her eyes now showing guilt and sadness. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"It's okay," Loki interrupted her softly. "I know."

"So, what do you do on these trips?" Natasha wondered.

Loki smiled lightly. "I talk to him. Just talk. I know that he isn't there, and that he can't hear me, but it is liberating. And, sometimes, it's almost as if he is there with me on that beach." He looked down at her. "Does that sound strange?"

She shook her head. "No. It isn't strange at all. In fact, it is probably one of the most human things you could ever do." She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face to his chest. "I think it's sweet of you." She tightened her hold on him and Loki gave her a squeeze. "I'm sorry that I didn't trust you just now. I don't know what came over me. I just haven't been feeling myself lately."

Loki nodded. "I know. It's okay."

Natasha nodded. "Maybe I will take that trip back to Earth, just for a little while. I think it may help to make sure that everything is in order down there."

Loki nodded and kissed her forehead. "Of course. I'll make the arrangements with Heimdall tomorrow. Alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Loki kissed her head again and shifted to a more comfortable position. "Get some sleep, _Min Kjære_."

**XXXX**

Thor tossed and turned in his bed, unable to find a comfortable position on the feather mattress. After another hour of this, he gave up and stood from his bed. He made his way across the room to his desk. He rarely used it, not being the studious type like Loki, but it currently bore two leather-bound volumes and a framed, Earthian photo.

He picked up the photo and smiled at it. In the photo was Jane, smiling at the camera while the wind blew her brown locks out to the side, and billowed her loose flannel overhirt out around her. In her arms was a stack of notes, files and her trusty notebook. It had been taken on one of his many trips to Midgard, before the Thanos Incident, as everyone had taken to calling it. He longed to see Jane again, and perhaps take a page out of Loki's book and offer her a place amongst them, on Asgard, with him. But a niggling feeling in his heart, like something was wrong would appear and he would dismiss the idea. He could not risk bringing Jane here until he knew it was safe. He could not fault Loki for giving Natasha the Apple, things had just died down and they all thought that the danger had passed. But now, something new was coming. He could feel it, as could Loki; he could see it in his brother's eyes.

He set the picture back down and picked up the two books that were on his desk. They were mortal books, history texts about their world. They had a long and dark history filled with war, slavery, famine and plague. Looking at how self-destructive the humans were as a race made him see what Loki was thinking when he commented that humans needing to be ruled; and that scared him. Loki had not been lieing when he said that the mortals slaughtered each other in droves. But this negative thinking was not helping him any.

He dropped the book and sighed. He supposed that he simply missed Jane, being way up here on Asgard. He had not seen her since before he and the others left to do battle with Thanos. He looked at her picture once more. Perhaps he should pay her a visit soon. He thought about the idea for a moment, then nodded. He would return to Earth soon, in the next couple of days, and pay another visit to his beloved Jane Foster.

With his mind made up and his heart just a bit lighter, Thor returned to his bed, and soon found solace in his dreams.

**XXXX**

Natasha awoke with a start as her stomach lurched and she felt bile rising from within. She scrambled from the bed and into the bath chamber that was connected to the bedroom by a door. Inside, was a fairly modern looking bathroom, complete with both a modern shower and a large deep bath. Also, there was a toilet. It was to this that she ran, throwing open the lid and seat and spewing what remained of the previous evening's dinner into the clean porcelain contraption.

She did not hear Loki enter behind her, but she did feel his long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face as she emptied her stomach into the toilet. While one hand was holding her hair back, the other was rubbing soft, soothing circles into her back and he was whispering calming, gentle words in her ear. She wondered if his voice had been infused with magic, because her stomach began to settle and her shaking hands became steadier. After she had finished purging herself of all that had remained in her stomach, she flushed the toilet and fell back limply into Loki's chest, his long arms encircling her and holding her gently. He flicked his finger and Natasha sighed in relief, feeling her mouth suddenly cleaned of the horrid smell and aftertaste of her stomach acid.

"Thank you," she whispered to him as he held her to him.

He nodded lightly. "You're welcome," he returned, his voice soft and worried. "Are you alright?"

Natasha nodded. "I am now."

"Good." Loki held her silently and she was thankful for his show of support. After a short while, he spoke again. "I think we should take you to see the healers."

Natasha sighed and nodded reluctantly. "Yeah...okay." She yawned. "But, can we do it in the morning?"

Loki looked out through the open door, where he could see the large window on their room. It was still dark outside. He smiled softly at her. "Of course." He began to lift her back to her feet. "Come, love, let's go back to bed." She did not resist when he placed his arm around her waist and began to lead her back to their bed. She slid under the covers gratefully and sighed as her body fully relaxed once more. Loki entered the bed from his side and moved over to her, pulling her protectively into his arms. "Try to get some sleep," he whispered into her hair after planting a small kiss to her forehead. She nodded silently, and soon slipped back into slumber. Loki laid awake, holding her to him, his mind filtering through all of the possibilities of what could be wrong with her. He was coming up blank, and it was bothering him. He shook his head and forced himself to think about something else. It was almost an hour later when he finally returned to his restful sleep.

**XXXX**

**A/N: Well, another chapter down. Let me know what you think. REVIEW! But, don't flame. Again, the myths don't follow exactly, I just gave the gist of the idea, and molded them to fit this story and the Marvel Cinematic Universe.**

**I hope you all enjoyed.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**


	3. Ready or Not

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed. This chapter was hard to write, not because of not having ideas, but because I had a splitting headache while trying to write it, that, coupled with little sleep and caffeine fueled insomnia, are not good circumstances in which to write a story. But, I forged onward and was able to churn this chapter out for you all. **

**I once again enter into unfamiliar territory with this chapter, though this is a different territory than I entered in 'Redemption'. I hope it isn't too bad. Enjoy!**

**Resistance**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter III: Ready or Not**

**'What's the miracle, if life itself is not? Who am I to praise its worth with a hymn? I may stumble over words that I forgot, just as life itself will slowly begin. Sing me a song for the mountains to move. Sing me the anthem of life. I am skeptical, I like my glass of wine. I don't know your name, or what I am to do. One day you're wonder why I read between the lines, and you will sing for me, the way I sang for you. Sing me a song for the oceans to part. Sing me the anthem of life. So another page is turned, pray I understand what's happening. But if anything, I do know this: I'll be the best I can.'**

**-Anthem by Kamelot.**

Loki and Natasha entered the dining hall that morning a short while after the rest of the royal family. Odin was seated at the head of the table, with Frigga to his left, Thor was seated at the opposite end of the table from Odin, and the space to his left was empty, but Jane would have filled it had she been on Asgard with them. Loki pulled out the seat to the left of his own, which was at Thor's right, as the second in line to the throne, this was his place. Natasha sat gracefully in the seat that Loki had pulled out for her and Loki gently pushed the chair back to the table before taking his own seat.

Morning greetings were exchanged, and large platters of food passed around. Fruits, breads, eggs, which Tony had insisted on when he was here, even going so far as to show the cooks how to prepare them for him. It had become a regular sight at the table, as had bacon and pancakes, requested from Thor, who had filled his plate with the Midgardian breakfast courses. For the most part, Loki stuck with fresh fruits and a glass of juice to start the day with. Natasha was steering clear of the bacon and instead copying Loki in going for fruits and juice. She declined coffee, offered to her by Thor, who had taken a liking to the strange, powerfully flavored Midgardian beverage. Eggs were offered to her next, and her face grew pale. Loki passed them on, seeing her reaction to them, and trying to avoid upsetting her stomach again so early.

Frigga, being the mother she was, immediately noticed Natasha's behavior. "Natasha, dear, are you feeling alright?"

Natasha appeared startled, not used to the Queen addressing her so worriedly. She straightened herself and nodded. "I'm fine, my lady. I just don't feel quite myself today."

Frigga frowned but Loki spoke up. "Do not worry yourself, Mother. I am going to escort her to the healers this morning and have them check her over, just in case."

Frigga nodded, her frown lessening, though not disappearing. She could see that her son was worried for Natasha, and was trying not to let it show; not because he didn't care, but because he did not want anyone else to worry, did not want Natasha to worry.

Dinner passed in silence, though it was not uncomfortable. Once their meals were done, Loki and Natasha excused themselves from the table. As they were leaving, Thor called out to them. "Loki, there is something I need to discuss with you. Will you meet me in the garden after you take Natasha to the healers?"

Loki paused, and then nodded. "As you wish."

Thor smiled his usual thousand-watt smile. "Thank you. I hope you feel better, Natasha."

Natasha gave her thanks to Thor and they exited the room. They made their way through the halls of the palace, Loki with one hand placed lightly on the small of Natasha's back as she walked close to his side, her arms folded over her midsection. Loki smirked at how out-of-place she looked, dressed in her Midgardian clothes, a pair of dark jeans and a black blouse, with her boots on, as compared to the gowns and such that most Asgardian women wore; personally, he preferred her current attire, though she had a few gowns of her own now that Frigga had given her for special occasions, should any arise. Loki was in his usual loose green and black Asgardian garb, the coat falling down to the back of his knees, swaying lightly as he walked.

Natasha bit her lip, growing wary as they neared the healing room. What if they found something wrong with her? Countless scenarios flew through her mind, each worse than the last. She felt her heartbeat accelerate and forced herself to take slow calming breathes. Loki's hand, that had been on her back, moved to take one of her hands and gave it a gently squeeze. She looked up at him and he smiled comfortingly down at her. She forced a smile as well and moved closer to him, her arm going around him as his slipped around her shoulders. "Everything will be fine," he whispered in her ear. She nodded and relaxed, hearing his velvet smooth voice calmed her nerves like nothing else could.

When they came to the door to the healing room, they slowed to a stop, giving Natasha a moment to steel herself, then Loki pushed open the door and lead Natasha inside. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by a healer. She bowed to Loki, as was custom when addressing a member of the royal family; not everyone was happy about Loki's release from captivity, and even fewer were inclined to trust him, but they all had to obey custom and show him respect, even if they hated him, something he gained immense amusement from; he may have changed quite a bit, but there were some things about him that would never change, and causing discomfort and a bit of mischief was one of these things.

The healer did not appear to have any ill feelings toward Loki and smiled warmly at the two of them. "Good morning, Prince Loki, Lady Natasha. What brings you here this morning?" the healer asked, her blue eyes scanning them both for injuries, finding none.

It was Loki who answered. "She hasn't been feeling well lately. She vomited last night and we would like to know if there is anything seriously wrong with her, or if it's just part of the adaption process."

The healer frowned as she thought. She had never really had to deal with sick patients, as Asgardians had a natural immunity to disease, and vomiting only came with copious amounts of mead or wine ingestion. hangovers were common amongst the warriors and easily cured. "Did she have anything to drink last night?"

Loki looked to Natasha and she shook her head. "No. I only drank water at dinner, then went straight to bed."

The healer's frown deepened. "Hmm. I've not heard of this being involved with mortal to immortal transition, but, then again, that is rare in itself." Her eyes brightened as an idea sparked in her head. "I could ask Johann to have a look at you. He was not from here either, and may have better insight into the transition phase and the side effects."

Loki was about to agree, but Natasha spoke before he could. "No, thank you. I would prefer if you or one of the others simply looked me over, if you don't mind."

The healer frowned but nodded. Natasha couldn't explain why, but she did not feel comfortable around Johann. There was something about him, something in his eyes, that unnerved her and made her feel fear, and that was not something she was used to. She had been afraid before, like when Bruce had transformed into the Hulk on the Helicarrier and tried to kill her. Or when Loki had shot down the Quinjet that she, Clint and Steve had been in. Or when the council had tried to nuke New York. Or when Surtur had blasted the Quinjet that she and Loki had been in from the air over Jan Mayen. The list went on and on. It was safe to say that she was no stranger to fear, but she did not seek it out unless she had no other choice.

Loki tilted his head in confusion at Natasha's almost-vehement rejection of the suggestion to bring in Johann. His eyes narrowed; was there something that he was missing? He shook that thought away and followed Natasha as a healer led to a curtained off area and pulled the curtain aside to reveal a small cubical-like room with a bed and a table. Natasha was asked to lay down on the bed and relax. As Natasha did this, the healer turned to Loki. "This could take a few hours, and it probably will; we want to be very thorough. You may go about your business and we will send for you when we know something."

Loki looked as if he were going to decline but Natasha spoke up. "It's okay, Loki, you can go. Thor will be waiting for you."

Loki still hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Natasha nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Go on. You don't want to keep Thor waiting. You know how he is."

Loki snorted. "More than you know." Natasha chuckled and Loki came over and bent down, giving her a short but tender kiss. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Natasha nodded and smiled. "Go. I'll be fine."

He gave her another kiss then stood and walked from the cubical, glancing back at her just as the healer closed the curtain. He sighed and ran a worried hand through his hair as he walked from the room.

He stepped out of the healing room and closed the door behind him, his worried expression melting away as he secured an indifferent mask over his features. He began walking down the long hall, his mind still back with Natasha, hoping that the tests would reveal what was wrong so that he could fix it. He could heal just as well as any of the healers in that room, but he tended to not use that skill unless there was real need for it; he had healed himself on many occasions in the heat of battle.

He was about to round a corner when a strong female voice called out to him from behind. He came to a halt and turned slowly to face the speaker. "Sif?"

The dark-haired shield-maiden jogged up to him, her hair falling around her lovely face in smooth waves. Sif and the Warriors Three had made a conscious and noticable effort to include him in their activities, rather than ignoring and tolerating him as they had before. On some instances it was a welcome change, to have those that he had called 'friends' before return the sentiment, but on other occasions, it was mildly annoying. Sif came to a stop in front of him. "Loki, have you seen Thor?"

Loki shook his head. "Not since breakfast. I was actually on my way to meet him. He asked me to meet him in the gardens, said he needed to talk to me about something."

Sif frowned. "Oh. Well, when you talk to him, can you tell him to come find me afterward?"

Loki nodded; it was not an unreasonable request. "I will."

Sif nodded in gratefully. "Thanks, Loki." She frowned, as if remembering something. "Why were you in the healing room just now?"

Loki scowled, not liking it when others pried their way into his business, but he had to remind himself that Sif was his friend, and was becoming Natasha's friend as well; she had right to know, if only just a little. "Natasha was feeling ill, so the healers are going to check her over."

Sif"s eyes widened. "Oh?" She looked back over her shoulder at the healing room door. "I'll have to stop in and see how she's doing." She sighed. "Thanks again, Loki."

Loki nodded and turned to continue on his way as Sif walked back to the healing room to visit Natasha.

He managed to avoid any other individuals as he left the palace. He made his way down the front steps, ignoring the guards that were stationed at the entrance. He veered from the courtyard and into the garden that held his tree. He figured that this would be where Thor would be, and if not, this garden was connected to all of the others and he could navigate them easily.

He stepped beyond the low wall that separated the garden from the courtyard and walked toward his tree. His guess was proven to be correct when he spied Thor standing in front of his tree, looking up at it with his arms folded across his chest, one hand stroking his beard thoughtfully and the wind lifting his long golden locks lightly, his red cape fluttering out behind him. _**As expected...**_

Loki move toward him, his black clothing and sinister reputation like a dark shadow to contrast Thor's bright and glorious appearance and his kind and open nature. Black and White, Yin and Yang; brothers in all but blood. They were so different, yet they complimented each other in the strangest, yet strongest, way. Loki thought back to the way they had fought together to defeat Thanos, their attacks augmenting the others, and their strategies reliant on each other yet able to adapt in case one was taken from the fight. It had been hard, but they had overcome, and their bond of brotherhood was stronger for it. Though he would scarcely admit it, Loki loved Thor dearly. He had been the first to accept him back after his failed invasion of Earth, and had stayed by his side through it all. Even when he had been locked in that damned tree, he had not abandoned him, paying him visits and talking to him as though he were there in a physical form. If not for Thor, he would have gone truly insane long ago. They brought out the best in each other, and it was only by design that they also brought out the worst in each other. His mind flickered to when he and Thor had fought on the balcony of Stark Tower. He remembered how Thor had begged him to reconsider and help him and the Avengers end the madness that he had brought down on them. He had considered, and almost accepted, but his refusal had sparked a hidden rage in Thor, and he had lashed out most violently at him. _**The best, and the worst...**_ Sometimes, he regretted what he had done, in invading Earth, but he felt that it was something that he had needed to do; and he reasoned with himself that had he not gone to Earth, he would have never have met the lovely Agent Romanoff, and in his mind, that was reason enough not to regret the event, though he admitted that he could have gone about it differently. _**Perhaps I should have run for President...**_ he mused silently.

He cleared his mind of these thoughts as he came to a halt next to Thor. "You need to change things up a bit, brother, you are becoming too predictable," Loki told his blonde-haired foster brother.

Thor turned to him with a raised brow. "Really? Why do you say that?"

Loki gestured to the tree. "Of all of the gardens, you always come here. Why?"

Thor sighed. "I like it here."

Loki rolled his eyes. "You came here so often during my imprisonment that it became habit. Not that I didn't appreciate the company, but perhaps a change of scenery would help things." In truth, Loki only came here with the others because of Thor and Natasha. They both liked this place, Thor because he had become so used to it, and it reminded him of his brother, and Natasha because she felt safe here, under the branches that were still infused with his magic and a bit of his life-force; the branches that had saved her life. For Loki, this was a reminder of his time spent as a captive, when his father had sealed him away without mercy and left him there. But, he tolerated it, for them.

Thor seemed to think about this. "Perhaps," he conceded, though he did not look like he was really considering finding somewhere else to meet at in the future.

"But, the scenery is not why you asked me to come here, is it?" Loki said, turning the conversation toward the purpose of this meeting.

Thor shook his head, a small smile playing across his lips. "No, it is not."

Loki lifted his hands in a gesture to continue. "Tell me then. What is on your mind?"

Thor looked at his brother with a small twinkle in his eye. "I am going to be returning to Midgard in a few days, and I wanted to extend an invitation to you and Natasha to come along with me. I know that we discussed that Natasha may be a bit homesick, so this is the perfect opportunity for her to see her friends again."

Loki cocked his head. "Well, I was actually planning on taking Natasha back to Earth for a time already. We talked about it last night."

Thor smiled. "Then it is settled! You and I, along with Lady Natasha will pay a visit to Earth. I am certain that the rest of the team will be more than happy to see us again."

Loki smirked. "Oh, I'm sure they will."

Thor nodded, his smile still in place, though his eyes were a bit more serious. "They will, so long as you don't cause any trouble."

Loki looked disappointed. "But, Thor, I'm the God of Mischief, 'trouble' is my middle name!"

Thor frowned in confusion. "You don't have a middle name."

Loki dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "Details, Thor, details. It was a figure of speech anyway."

"I do not-" Thor began, but trailed off.

Loki waved Thor's confusion away and turned around.. He was about to leave when he remembered that Sif wanted to speak to Thor. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the voice of the very person he was going to deliver a message from.

"LOKI!" Sif ran up to them, her hair tousled a bit, as if she had run the whole way out to them.

"What is it?" Loki asked, his mind jumping to Natasha.

"It's Natasha!" Sif told him, confirming what he had suspected, and feared. "The healers found something. I don't know what, they wouldn't tell me, but they requested that I come and fetch you quickly."

Loki did not stick around to hear more and took off in a sprint toward the palace, leaving Thor and Sif behind, watching him with worried expressions, then following at a slower, but quickened, pace.

Loki ignored all others as he ran through the palace, up to the healing room. In his fearful state, he had forgotten that he could teleport, but seeing as he was already almost there, his long legs carrying him through the halls and passages with swift grace, he opted to just run the rest of the way.

He came around the corner of the hall that the healing room was located on and nearly slid into the wall. He righted himself almost effortlessly and continued on his way. He slowed down just outside the door and pushed it resolutely open. He strode inside, outwardly appearing calm, but his stormy eyes told a different story.

He marched across the room to the cubical that Natasha had been taken to and stepped inside, brushing the curtain aside as he stepped under it. Upon entering, his eyes immediately sought out Natasha, roaming over her, searching for any signs of harm. He found none, but did not let himself relax yet. His eyes sought hers and they narrowed. She was scared. He could see it. But she was also excited, happy, and a tad bit unsure. This confused him. Her face was purposefully blank, despite the maelstrom of emotions in her eyes.

Natasha could instantly see the fear and worry in Loki's eyes as he entered, despite that he seemed completely calm to the naked eye. And the question burning in his eyes as he looked her over and then met her eyes, was one that she could finally answer, though she wasn't sure to how to feel about said answer. They looked at each other silently for a moment, neither know how to begin.

It was the healer that broke the silence. "Ah, Prince Loki. I know that I said that this may take a few hours, but the problem," Natasha shot her a dirty glare at this wording, "was actually quite easy to detect."

Loki had caught the glare that Natasha had sent the healer and deduced that she did not consider whatever was effecting her as a problem. "And what, pray tell, is this condition?" He chose his words carefully, not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of Natasha's death glares; which was why he had used a neutral word like 'condition'; it seemed to be acceptable.

The healer smiled, and began to answer. "Lady Natasha is with-"

"I'm pregnant, Loki," Natasha spoke over the healer, who seemed a bit peeved at being interrupted. Natasha watched Loki closely, trying to gauge his reaction to her rather blunt and simple statement.

Loki felt as if time had stopped, and his mind went blank except for that single statement, playing repeatedly in his head. He could not get his mind to work, despite willing it to do so, so that he could process what he had just been told. Finally, time resumed and he suddenly felt light-headed and swayed lightly on his feet. He tried to wrap his head around Natasha's words. _**Pregnant...?**_

He was unsure how to feel, there were so many conflicting emotions going through him at the moment. Shock, confusion, fear, happiness, uncertainty, fear and joy and fear. Fear was definitely one of the strongest, and he realised that this must have been how Natasha had been feeling when he entered the cubical.

After a moment, it registered in his mind that Natasha would be waiting for a reaction from him, and he doubted that staring blankly ahead was not one that she would welcome. He opened his mouth to speak. "R-really?" he asked, cringing when his voice squeaked a bit.

Natasha nodded, tears gathering in her eyes, though whether they were happy or sad, Loki could not be sure yet.

A look of fearful wonder came over Loki as the gravity of the situation came crashing down around him with a single thought. _**I'm going to be a father.**_ He had barely known his real father, knowing him only as a warmongering, power-hungry monster. He knew that, for a time, he had been no better. He had been abandoned by his father when he was but an infant. He felt cold, calm resolve settle over him. He would not become his father. He would not become like Laufey, this he swore.

He let a small smile come to his lips as he walked over to the bed and seated himself on the edge. He then gently pulled Natasha to him and wrapped her in a tight, warm embrace. Natasha clung to him desperately, her fingers knotting into the leather at the back of his coat. A quick glance downward told him that the tears had begun to fall from Natasha's eyes. He tightened his hold and kissed her forehead softly. "I confess, that this was not what I was expecting," Loki began. He felt Natasha go still in his arms, listening to him speak. The healer slipped from the cubical, unnoticed. "And I also confess that I may not be ready for this, but ready or not, I will do everything within my power to be the best father I can be for this child. Our child."

Natasha exhaled in relief and sunk back into him, tears freely falling down her cheeks. She smiled and gave a short laugh through her tears. "I know you will." She was grateful that he was so understanding. She had feared that he may not be happy about this developement, that he may reject both her and the child, but words could not express her relief at hearing him tell her, sort of, that he was not going anywhere. "I'm not sure that I'm ready for this either, to be honest."

Loki inhaled deeply, then let out his breath in a quiet huff. "Don't worry, we'll be fine. All of us," he reassured her. She nodded mutely against his chest.

Thor and Sif entered a moment later and Thor unthinkingly pulled the curtain open for them to enter. Both stilled at the sight before them, Thor's words dying on his lips. Neither were sure how to take the sight of Loki and Natasha embracing as though their lives depended on it, given that they could not see either of their faces and they had no idea what had preceded this.

"We'll have to tell the others," Natasha murmured against his chest.

Loki nodded. "Mother will be pleased."

Natasha laughed a bit at this, picturing Frigga's ecstatic face. "I'm not sure how our friends back on Earth will react to the news though." She mused aloud. "Tony will probably want to give a toast and try to push a wedding on us. He's always looking for a reason to throw a party. Bruce and Steve will be happy, but not overly expressive like Tony. Clint, well, I'm honestly not sure anymore about how Clint would feel about it..." She trailed off momentarily, then shrugged and continued. "Fury will probably be disappointed and upset that I will no longer be able to work for him for a while, but he may be a little happy for us."

Loki smirked. "Maybe just a little."

"I'm not sure how Thor will take it though," Natasha said.

Loki's smirk grew. "Thor will be very happy for us," he assured. "Won't you Thor?"

The God of Thunder was startled when his brother addressed him without looking at him. "Uh...um...I...er...What?"

Loki and Natasha both laughed at Thor's flustered, muttered jumble of confusion. "I said, Thor, that you would be overly happy for us."

Thor was still confused. "I will? What will I be happy about?"

"Well," Natasha started, wiping her eyes. "You're going to be an uncle."

Thor did not catch her meaning at first, still reeling from Loki's knowledge of them being there without them having made any noise. When the real meaning behind what Natasha had said became clear to him, his eyes lit up. "Really?!" Loki turned to him and nodded. Thor beamed. "This is marvelous news!" He stepped forward and pulled both of them into his large, strong arms in a massive embrace. "Congratulations, brother! And you too, Natasha!"

Sif, who had caught everything, gave a sigh of relief that nothing was wrong with her newest friend. She walked over to them as Thor released them from his hug and placed a supportive hand on Natasha's shoulder. The red-haired woman looked up at the dark-haired warrior and smiled, her eyes lighting up with her joy.

**XXXX**

Johann frowned in concentration as he leaned over his workstation. He was in his home, in a basement area that he kept sealed off and hidden. In this place, he experimented with various projects that he had designed since coming to Asgard. Also in the room were various weapons, all stolen from deep within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s 'secure' bunker. He had been very careful and, with the help of his allies, procured many of the Phase 2 prototypes, making sure to leave no evidence of his having been there.

He had to admit that whoever had designed these weapons was skilled, even though many of them were simply based on designs created by Dr. Arnim Zola for HYDRA; but, there were a few that were original, and intriguing.

The piece he was working on was not a weapon for war though, at least not in the general sense of the term. It was a design of his own. He looked down at the smooth, shining metal, in the shape of a pair of shackles, though there was no connecting chain. Along the cuff sections, there was a series of small blue lights, glowing brightly. The shackles were powered by magic, harnessed and confined into the cuffs to act as a power source, much like he had used the Tesseract before, but this was natural magic, provided by one of his allies. He would have preferred the Tesseract's power, but he knew how volatile the Cube could be and needed something more reliable.

He put down the tools he was using to work with the cuffs and picked one up. He turned it over in his hands a few times, checking every inch of it, then nodded to himself. He calmly clamped the cuff around his own wrist and locked it into place. He picked up the second one and secured it on his other wrist as well. As soon as both had been locked, they flashed and Johann felt all of his strength and will drain from him, what little magic he had was sapped away and he was left weak and sluggish.

He gave a strained smile and, with a shaking hand, reached up and touched the lights on one of the cuffs in a specific sequence, unlocking it; but the effects did not end yet. He then unlocked the second cuff and sighed as the pressure from the magic was released and he was able to move normally again.

He was breathing a bit heavily as he smiled and looked at his creation with pride. Now that he had the design down, he could begin on making more of them. He had a similar design that he had already perfected, and used as a starting point for these cuffs. That design was a small clamp, that when attached to something, locked all of its magical properties, using the objects own magic as a power source. For example, if it was attached to Gungnir, the mighty weapon of Odin would become nothing more than a simple golden spear that, while grand to behold, was no more powerful than a regular spear.

The Inhibitor, as he called it, was not in his work room, instead it had been given to one of his allies, with orders to have it delivered to another potential ally, along with a letter, offering alliance and explaining the power of the Inhibitor. Only time would tell if his gift was accepted.

A knock was heard on the door to his work room and he sighed. "Enter."

A thick slab of wall moved aside to allow entrance to a woman with long flowing blonde hair and a curvaceous, well-defined body. She was wearing green clothing, a loose skirt that ended at mid-thigh and had a slit up both sides, revealing flawless, smooth legs, and boots that ended at her knees. Her midriff was bare and her breasts and shoulders were covered by a close-fitting halter-style top that dipped down in the front revealing a bit of the swell of her breasts. Long, green fingerless gloves that reached up to her elbows adorned her hands, the back of her hands and forearms bearing thin plates of golden armor.

"Amora," Johann greeted. "I trust that all went well."

Amora, the Enchantress, nodded. "It did. The item was delivered as ordered and graciously and eagerly accepted, as was your offer of an alliance. It seems that even creatures as dull-witted as the Frost Giants can see the benefits of your plans."

Johann nodded and smirked. "Very good."

Amora walked over to where Johann was sitting and leaned down to look at his work, the movement exposing a bit of her cleavage to Johann's sharp eyes. He believed that he knew her game, and played along, allowing her to think that she had an advantage, that she had the upper hand. She seemed of the mind that she could use her feminine wiles to bend him to her will, and use his mind and creations to her own motives, but every once in a while, he would use some subtle but noticable method to reassert his will and remind her who was the dominant in their relationship. _Perhaps,_ he thought, _I need be slightly more obvious._ He shook his head imperceptively, and returned his attention to his work.

Amora frowned at his disinterest and let out a quiet huff. "How are those coming?" she asked, gesturing to the cuffs.

Johann hid a smirk. "I have just put on the finishing touches," he told her. "All that is left is to test them." He did not tell her that he had already tested them on himself, seeing an opportunity to assert his dominance over her. He picked them up and stood, looking down at her. He motioned for her to raise her arms and he clamped on the first cuff. Amora looked bored, with a hint of superiority, not believing that Johann could actually get this particular invention to work. The idea that he could rob her of all of her power was just absurd to her. Johann had to hid his smirk again as he fastened the second cuff.

They flashed and suddenly the confidence in Amora's eyes was replaced by fear and sheer panic. She dropped to her knees, unable to properly hold herself upright with her strength and magic sapped from her. Her hands rapidly clawed at the cuffs as she desperately tried to rip them from her. Her attempted were futile and her movements grew ever more sluggish until she gave up on trying to pry the cool metal away and instead focused on staying somewhat upright.

She looked up at him, his smirk now unveiled for her to see, her breathing heavy and her eyes watering as she fought to move.

Johann circled her, milking every second of fear and agony from his willful ally. After he had circled her once, he stopped and knelt in front of her, his hand snaking out until his fingers cupped her chin. He turned her head from side to side as though examining her. He blinked twice, then stood and raised his leg. She tried to defend herself but was unable to as he kicked her over onto her side. She winced and a whimper escaped her.

Johann knelt down beside her and pulled her back to her knees, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "My dear Amora, you're looking rather pale," he taunted. Amora could only shiver as his warm breath tickled the skin behind her ear. "Let this be my first and only warning to you. If you ever so much as _think_ about betraying me to the Aesir, I will cuff you and lock you away in here where no one will find you. You will be subjected to tortures and humiliations beyond any you could imagine until you _die_. Am I clear?" She only shook as she fought tears and to keep her breathing under control. "Am. I. _Clear_?" He took her chin gently in his hand and turned her to face him as he said this. Slowly, shakily, she nodded, her blue eyes meeting his.

Johann nodded and swiftly removed the cuffs from her. She breathed a sigh of relief and tried to stand, but found herself still shaking. Johann saw her struggle and gently helped her to her feet, one arm going around her waist as he led her to his chair and lowered her into it. "There you go. The effects will wear off momentarily. Just try to relax."

Amora looked up at his with wide, fearful, confused eyes. She could not understand how this man could be so completely ruthless one moment, then calm and almost caring the next. It was frightening. She nodded to him again and began to take deep breaths as her shaking slowly stopped.

She could feel his hand still on her back, rubbing soothing circles there. This was the Johann that she knew. Calm, kind and gentle. This sadistic side of him was not something she was familiar with. She knew he was ambitious, always had been, but she had never known him to be cruel in all the time that had passed since she had met him when he first came to Asgard. She did not know much about him from before then, he claimed to not remember, but over the years, he had seemed to regain some of his memory. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him before he had appeared on Asgard. Were the events of that forgotten past what made him the way he was?

He had seemed different after they had all fled to Midgard, something there sparking something in him. She did not know what, but it had kickstarted his ambitions to someday rule Asgard and Midgard both. She did not argue and went along, after all, she wanted a place of power in the new Asgard that he would create, preferable at his side. Before, her loyalty had stemmed from admiration and desire, but now, there was a sprinkling of fear, though, after so long, her admiration was still strong, and not easily shaken. She felt determination grow inside of her and resolved to be the best lieutenant that she could; after all, he had said that this would be the only time he would do this to her as long as she didn't betray him. She understood the warning well.

Her shaking came to a stop with this new resolution and she felt her strength returning.

Johann could see her internal debate, and smiled. From what he could see, she had just saved herself a load of pain and passed his loyalty test. He could also see her returning to normal now, her skin regaining that healthy glow. "There, you see. Nothing to worry about." Both of them understood the double meaning of his words and Amora nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Johann moved to stand by his desk, looking at the cuffs. The scientist in him had watched her closely, noting the effects in comparison to his previous test. The power of the cuffs seemed to affect her more than they had him. He theorized that this was because she had a stronger core than he did, her magic being more powerful and in greater abundance than his own small amount. He picked up a file that was laying on his desk and wrote down a few notes before closing it and setting it aside.

He turned back to Amora, who was still sitting in his chair. He knelt down in front of her and lightly moved a few stray hairs out of her face with his hand. "The time is close," he said, his strange accent clear; he did not hide it when not in public. "Only a short while and we will be ready to make our move."

Amora nodded. "What do you need?"

Johann smiled. "I'll need some more of your magic." Amora nodded and made to stand up, but Johann stopped her with a firm hand. She looked at him questioningly. "Not today, my dear. I do not think the cuffs will have any long-term effects on you, but I want to be sure. Get some rest. We'll continue our work in a few days."

Amora nodded again and this time Johann let her stand. She bade him farewell and left the room, casting a quick glance back before disappearing through the door. Johann watched her go, then turned back to his desk. He opened a drawer and withdrew another set of cuffs, planning to fine-tune them before powering them. He looked at the other item in the drawer and smirked. He closed the drawer and set to work. It was almost time.

**XXXX**

Loki teleported down to the Bifrost, leaving straight from the healing room after Natasha had decided that she wanted to take a nap. He still felt that a trip back to Midgard would do her some good, so he was going to set the arrangements in order with Heimdall, just as he had said he would. He had already discussed it with her. She had been reluctant to leave, what with the news of the child growing within her, but Loki had talked her into it, seeing that she still wanted to go. They had agreed that she would depart in three days time for New York.

He approached the stoic guardian of the interworld gateway and raised a hand in greeting, which was, expectedly, unreturned. "Heimdall," Loki greeted.

Heimdall turned his orange-gold eyes toward Loki. "My Prince. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

"In three days, Natasha will be returning to Midgard for a time with Thor and I. I am only here to inquire about something...something important." Loki looked at the Bifrost with nervous eyes, something which made Heimdall's own eyes narrow curiously.

"What is on your mind?" Heimdall asked.

Loki sighed. "What I ask, you must not speak of to anyone. I have not told my mother and father about this development yet, so I require your silence." Heimdall nodded that he understood. Loki took a deep breath. "Natasha is with child, and I need to know if Bifrost travel is safe for her and the child."

Heimdall turned to look at Loki, and Loki could have sworn that he saw the stoic warrior's lips twitch upward at the ends. "It is perfectly safe, My Prince. The Bifrost itself has no adverse effects on the body, so long as the being that is transported entered the portal willingly. I suspect that when your brother was exiled before, he had a bit of a rough landing. But, I assure you, no harm will come to the child or its mother."

Loki felt relief pour through him and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Thank you, Heimdall."

The guardian of the Bifrost nodded and Loki turned to leave, teleporting away.

**XXXX**

Loki appeared in the palace courtyard just as a loud horn blared from near the top of the tall structure. Loki looked up in alarm as the warning horn blasted out in a single low note. He cursed under his breath and ran into the palace. He came into the throne room to find Odin standing with his battle armor on and Thor beside him, prepared for battle as well, but minus his mighty hammer.

"What is going on?" Loki asked as he approached his father and brother, his own armor appearing on his body and his Spear, which he had dubbed _L__æ__vateinn_, or Wounding Wand, materializing in his hand.

"Frost Giants!" Thor growled. "A group of them infiltrated our defenses and stole Mjolnir from my chamber!"

Loki narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Why would they try such a thing? And how could they succeed? It is widely known that it is impossible for none but its chosen master to wield Mjolnir. I should know!"

"I do not know why they would do this, or how. I have a truce with King Thrym," Odin said.

Loki snorted. "As if a truce with a Frost Giant has ever stopped them from attacking us or trying to steal from our treasure room."

Odin frowned. "Thrym is not Laufey, Loki." Loki narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. "Thrym is much wiser and not the fool that Laufey was. I do not believe that he would seek war with us, especially after his armies were heavily decimated by Surtur upon his awakening." Odin had learned of Surtur's passage through Jotunheim from Thrym during a meeting that they had had after the reclaiming of Asgard from Thanos. Thousands of Jotuns had met their deaths at the flames of Surtur and his mighty blade.

"Be that as it may," Thor said, his voice firm, "We cannot allow this injustice to stand."

"Oh?" Odin asked, raising a brow. "What would you suggest we do?"

Loki looked between the two, unsure of how to react. This was seeming far too familiar for him to be comfortable with the situation.

Thor seemed to think so as well and adjusted his stance to a less offensive one. "First, we find the breach, and seal it. Then we call for an audience with King Thrym. We will find the truth of the matter. If he had anything to do with it, then we must consider that he means to declare war upon us."

Odin studied Thor for a moment, silently, then slowly nodded. "Very well. We shall do this your way, this time. Let us see how this plays out."

**XXXX**

**A/N: Another chapter down. I hope you all enjoyed it. Johann's personality was hard to capture. I wanted him to seem intelligent and methodical, sadistic and evil, yet with a softer, human side; he has a hard, dark past. I don't know how well I did that, but I tried. Let me know what you think of the developments in this chapter. I wasn't sure at first, but this seemed the natural way to go after the events of the previous story. Let me know. REVIEW! But don't flame. Thank You.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**


	4. The Lay of Thrym

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed the previous chapter. Here is a new one for you to enjoy. This chapter is heavily influenced by the poem **_**Þrymskviða, **_**or **_**Thrymskviða**_**. It is quite a well-known and popular tale, so many of you will probably recognize it. There are a few things that are either added or changed to allow it to fit into the parameters of this story. Also note that I ignore the fact that Mjolnir was seen in the Thor film when Thor and Loki were children. I have my reasons. Now, enjoy!**

**Resistance**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter IV: The Lay of Thrym**

**'Nine worlds of lore. I will not let you wield this hammer of war, so I have come to Jotunheim, all alone, to take back what is mine. I'll break every bone. By right, this weapon wards the nine worlds of lore. Such was the world in dark days of yore. Safekeeper of the world then was Thor. Such was what they believed in before. Nine were the worlds of lore.'**

**-Nine Worlds of Lore by Týr.**

Loki watched in annoyance as Thor paced across the throne room yet again. It had been only an hour since they had discovered the theft of the mighty hammer Mjolnir, and Thor had not settled once in that time. Loki had let his armor fade back into his regular outfit, as had Odin, but Thor still wore his battle-garb, save for his helmet, which he rarely donned anyway. They were supposed to be considering who to send as an envoy to King Thrym, but had yet to come to a decision.

After yet another pass from his brother, Loki sighed through gritted teeth, "Would you please stop pacing?! It is grating on my nerves."

Thor turned to Loki in irritation. "Do not tell me to be calm, brother."

Loki gave a confused look at Thor's words. "I didn't tell you to calm down, Thor. By all rights, be angry. You have been wronged. I understand your ire. But wearing a rut in the floor will do little good to anyone."

Thor clenched his fist and growled, sitting down roughly on the steps of the throne where Odin sat. Odin looked between his two eldest and sighed. "Who will make the journey to Jotunheim to parley with Thrym?" Thor made to speak, but Odin cut him off. "No, Thor. In your current rage, you will not be of the proper mind to speak to Thrym without inciting violence."

"I'll go," Loki said, his voice firm, and determined. Despite the seeming acceptance and praise that Odin paid him now, he was still desperate to prove that he was of worth, of use, to Asgard and her people. And this was a perfect chance to prove that he could be trusted with matters of diplomacy.

Odin turned his eye to his adopted son and smiled thinly. "Are you sure, Loki?"

Loki nodded. "I am. Jotunheim has a harsh climate, one that can be treacherous for those that are not adapted to its arctic temperatures. I have Jotun blood in my veins, the cold does not affect me as it would Thor, or any other Asgardian. That, and I am more skilled with words than many here." Loki met Odin's blue eye with his own blue-green ones. "I can do this, father. Just give me the chance and I'll prove that to you."

Odin's face softened, and he sighed. Then, he nodded. "Very well, Loki. Depart as soon as you are ready. Uncover the truth in this plot."

Loki nodded and began to walk from the throne room. He stepped through the door at the back of the room and headed up to his quarters. He pushed open the door and entered, not really sure why he had come here first before leaving. There was nothing here that he needed. He looked around the room a moment and turned around, leaving the chamber again.

As he closed the door behind him, Thor came up the stairs from the throne room. Loki looked at him expectantly. Thor sighed as he came to a stop in front of his brother. "Forgive my belligerence, brother. I was wrong to be cross with you."

Loki smiled and patted Thor on the arm. "Do not worry yourself over it."

Thor smiled as well. "Be careful out there, brother. I do not trust those Giants, and I have a bad feeling that this will not be able to be resolved without bloodshed."

Loki smirked. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." He walked around Thor and made for the stairs. At the top step, he turned back. "Don't worry, Thor. I'll be on my guard. I may have their blood in my veins, but I do not trust the Jotuns any more than you do." He made to continue on his way, but stopped again. "Oh, and I know how they got in."

Thor cocked his head. "How?"

Loki looked at his boots. "Before, when they stole the Casket, it was I who let them in. I was jealous of you, and wanted to disrupt your coronation. I thought it just harmless fun, but, look at all that became of it. I am sorry, Thor. But, I meant what I said that day." He closed his eyes and gave his head a mental shake. Thor looked on, unsure of how to feel about what he was hearing. "There is a pathway, between Asgard and Jotunheim, a natural portal that follows along the branches of Yggdrasil. It leads from just outside the city to the ice fields outside of Laufey's fortress. I showed them this path, and that was how they entered that day, and again today. I do not know if it can be sealed, but it can be used by anyone with even a bit of magical skill. Jotuns may not be adept at the arcane arts, but they have natural magic and it allows them to use this ancient path."

Thor walked up to Loki and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Brother, you expect me to be angry at you for what you did." It was not a question, rather a statement of observation. "Before, I would have been. But, if you are guilty, so am I. I allowed your envy to fester and become rage, instead of making the effort to include you more often. There is more than enough blame to go around. While you are responsible for your own actions, there are many of us to be held accountable for what lead to it. You have not asked for forgiveness, but I give it to you anyway. You are my brother, and my friend. Never doubt that I love you." Thor purposefully mirrored Loki's words from the day of his coronation, letting him know that he remembered that tender moment between two brothers well.

Loki looked back at Thor and smirked. "I think that that's my line, Thor." He chuckled while Thor laughed. He settled back into smiling and nodded to Thor. "I should be on my way. The longer we tarry, the longer Mjolnir stays on Jotunheim." Thor nodded as Loki turned to leave.

Loki teleported to just outside the healing room, where Natasha had been ordered to stay the night by the healers. He entered the room and made his way straight to where Natasha was. He slipped past the curtain that blocked her area from view and smiled, seeing her looking restless on the bed, her arms cross and her face purposefully blank. If she had been anyone else, he suspected that she would be pouting.

Her head snapped up as Loki entered and she let her blank mask slip. "Please tell me you've come to rescue me from this place!"

Loki chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, love, no."

She let out a huff and dropped her head back against the headboard. "Dammit." she looked back at him. "What's going on out there? There was a loud noise, like a horn, and the healers started whispering about it being some kind of warning system."

Loki sat down on the edge of her bed and nodded. "Yeah, it was. That's actually why I came here. Jotuns have stolen Thor's hammer."

Natasha's eyes widened. "What? How?"

I don't know," Loki admitted. "It shouldn't be possible. Mjolnir has enchantments on it that prevent anyone but the owner to wield it. I should know, I commissioned the damned thing."

"Then how did they...?" Natasha trailed off. "Wait, are you saying that you were involved in the forging of Mjolnir?"

Loki nodded. "Yes. That's a long story though, and I only have a little time."

Natasha frowned. "Why?"

Loki sighed. "I am going to Jotunheim to speak with King Thrym. We suspect that he may have something to do with the theft. I am going to find out."

"Be careful," Natasha told him, her hands unconsciously going to her stomach.

Loki noticed this and smiled, placing one of his hands over hers. "I will." He leaned in and she met him halfway, their lips molding together in a short goodbye kiss. Loki pulled back and gave her hand a squeeze before standing and walking from the room, looking back once at the curtain. He smiled, then disappeared in a single movement, his body fading as he teleported from the palace.

He reappeared in front of the Bifrost. He turned in a small circle, not seeing Heimdall at his usual post outside the great golden structure. A frown came to his lips as he made his way into the domed building. His keen eyes scanned the layout of the room, searching for golden armor amidst the golden-bronze interior. He found what he was seeking in the center of the room, sword already set to open the Bifrost.

"I'm going to assume that you knew that I would be coming," Loki said by way of greeting.

Heimdall inclined his head once. "I did."

Loki smirked. "This is the second time that Frost Giants have slipped in on your guard. I think you may be losing your touch, Heimdall." Loki smiled to let the guardian know that he was but jesting.

Heimdall did not appear amused. "Indeed. And I pray, for all our sakes, that this error may be remedied this time."

Loki cocked his head in a manner than said he guiltily agreed with the stoic guardian. "I as well."

Loki stepped over to stand in front of the portal and Heimdall slid his sword into the keyhole. The Bifrost flared to life with arcs of lightning in the form of a great tree - Yggdrasil. "You know the rules of Bifrost. If your return endangers the safety of Asgard, the gateway will remain closed to you, and you will be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim."

Loki smirked at the familiarity of the situation; that seemed to be happening a lot today. He smirked. "I have no plans to die today, good Heimdall."

Heimdall gave him a hard look, but did not say anything. He locked the portal into position and Loki was pulled into the gateway with a colorful flash of light.

All around Loki was a blur of colors for a short moment, then he was hit full-force by a blast of icy cold wind. His surroundings became less bright and cleared to reveal the dark, blue hued, snowy landscape of Jotunheim. Barren and dead with jagged crags and deep cavernous canyons that were capped over by layers of ice, the thick, but fragile, substance the only thing between Loki and a potentially deadly fall. The fall probably wouldn't kill him, but there was a strong chance that he would land on a stalagmite at the bottom of whatever canyon lay below, and he didn't fancy being impaled by a natural spike of ice or stone.

He looked up at the grey-clouded sky and sighed. Off to one side, he could see a small bit of sunlight leaking through a crack in the clouds, weak and dim due to the great distance that the burning star was from the winter planet.

He let out a sigh, his breath forming into a cloud in front of his face before dissipating. His face settled into a determined expression as he took his first steps across the dead landscape. It was not a long journey to Thrymheim, but it was further than the trek to Laufey's fortress had been.

It seemed that he walked for hours, the landscape never seeming to change as his journey progressed. The longer he walked, the darker the sky grew, and the colder the wind blew, whipping through his hair and lifting the ends of his coat out with every gust. Every once in a while, he would catch sight of a pair of deep red eyes, watching him from the shadows, but when he would focus on them, they would fade into the darkness and disappear. He did his best to ignore the feeling of being watched and kept his eyes forward, toward his destination.

The further he traveled, the greater the sense of unease grew within him as more and more often he would catch sight of Frost Giants peering out at him from the darkness, ever shadowing him on his silent march. At one point in his journey, he could make out vague shapes just out of sight, and he could hear them circling him as the wind died down, as if planning to attack, only for them to back off a few moments later. After that, he kept his eyes and ears open for further movements.

The light was near gone when he came to the outskirts of Thrymheim, the fortress of King Thrym. He stopped, looking up at the great stone and ice structure with a hard look in his eyes. He felt the old, deep-seeded fear and hatred bubbling up in his chest at the sight; it reminded him greatly of his birth father, and how much he despised him, even in death. His hand tightened into a fist and he bared his teeth for a short second before regaining control over his unaffected, somewhat amused mask and reasserting it back into place.

He sighed and made his way forward to the gates of the great fortress. Unlike Laufey's fortress which had been little more than a ruin left as a broken remnant of a terrible war from ages past, Thrymheim was a well maintained city with a great castle of ice and stone in the center. High walls of ice surrounded the city, offering protection from the other tribes of Jotunheim who had not flocked to Thrym's banner after the death of Laufey and had formed their own tribes or joined a pre-existing one. These tribes would raid each other for food or other supplies, killing the men, taking the women for their own and enslaving the children of the fallen warriors. Thrym's city was different, having a more Asgardian influence, though still maintaining the Jotun heritage. Thrym was also not above raiding either, though he was not in the habit of keeping slaves. None of the tribes dared attack Thrymheim, as Thrym also commanded a large army of Frost Giants, far greater in number and skill than any tribesman the wastes could produce, though Loki was sure that they would stand little chance against the warriors of Asgard.

The gate was open, with two sentries placed on either side, and one above with a horn in his hand to give warning in case of attack. They spied Loki and tensed, their hands tightening around the long spears that they were holding, their knees bending slightly to spring into action at the first sign of danger.

Loki stopped a few dozen yards away from them and held his hands out to the sides to show that he had no weapon. Several Frost Giants walked up behind him from the jagged, rocky landscape, effectively blocking his retreat, or so they thought. Loki's lips twitched up in a smirk at their attempted show of dominance. They thought that their scouts had gotten the drop on him and that their appearance would be a surprise. They were wrong.

The Jotun atop the gate called out to him. "Halt, Asgardian! One more step and we will cut you down where you stand. What business brings you here?"

Loki kept his hands to the sides and spoke back. "My name is Loki Laufeyson. I come seeking audience with King Thrym on behalf of King Odin of Asgard."

The Jotuns exchanged glances, unsure whether they should let him pass. He heard murmurs of from some behind him about how they should not trust anyone who was of the blood of Laufey, the warmonger. Loki kept his expression neutral but felt a spark a rage at the comments, not because of the disrespect of Laufey, but because of the disrespect for him simply on the basis that he shared the same blood as the Jotun that they held contempt for. The sins of the father were not the child's to bear and suffer from, that fell solely on the shoulders of the sinner himself. Laufey had brought destruction to Jotunheim in the form of a foolish war with Asgard, and there were many Frost Giants that hated him for it, only a few stayed under his banner after the defeat of his armies and the seizing of the Casket, the rest flocked to the banner of Thrym or to the tribes, and Loki wanted no part of any of it. The politics of Jotunheim were of no concern to him unless it threatened his home or the people he loved. That was why he was here now.

The Jotun atop the gate frowned down at him for a moment, then nodded. "You may pass, but you will have an escort."

There were grunts of dissatisfaction from behind him, but none spoke up against the gate guard's ruling. Loki inclined his head with a smile. "Thank you."

The Jotun guard made a signal with his arm and two of the scouts from behind him stepped forward to stand on either side of him. They then walked forward and through the gates, all the Giants keeping a close eye on the Trickster. Through the streets, past house-like structures and other dwellings, then finally to the castle. All the way, he was cast curious, distrusting and even admiring glances from the Jotuns of Thrymheim.

Two more sentries stood on either side of the doors that led inside Thrym's great keep. They noticed Loki and looked to the scouts with questioning looks. The scouts spoke to the sentries quietly for a moment, with many a glance thrown Loki's way, until they finally opened the doors for them to pass.

Inside was not dark as one would have expected, as it had been with Laufey's ruined palace. There were a number of cold blue torches burning on the walls, providing a flittering, fluttering pale light that reflected off the icy walls, bouncing the light through the entire room, illuminating all present in light from all directions. There were very few shadows cast within this chamber. Many Frost Giants, both male and female, were gathered in the hall, and they all began to whisper amongst themselves upon seeing Loki enter.

At the far end of the room, on a throne of stone sat Thrym, his large, tall form towering high over Loki as he approached. The Jotun king peered down at him with what appeared to be a kind smile, but there was a devious flicker within those red depths that Loki, being of devious nature himself, picked up on immediately, having had that same look dance behind his own eyes before.

"Hail, Asgardian. To whom am I speaking?" Thrym greeted, then inquired, his voice booming and echoing in the large hall.

Loki smirked. "Loki, son of Laufey, brother of Thor, son of Odin." More whispers erupted through the hall. He was well known on Jotunheim as the man who slew Laufey and used the Bifrost to nearly destroy them all, Thrym having learned the truth of that matter from Odin himself. He was not well liked, but well feared, though some held a small spark of admiration and respect for him for killing the fool King Laufey.

Thrym's face grew grim, but he attempted to maintain a civil expression. "And what business brings you here, Laufeyson? Is all well on Asgard?" Thrym asked, his voice somewhat concerned.

Loki shook his head. "All is not well with the Aesir, I am afraid."

"What ails the Aesir?" Thrym asked, a bit too curiously for Loki's liking.

Loki frowned up at the Frost Giant. "Thor's Hammer, the mighty Mjolnir, has been stolen, by Jotuns." Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly for Loki, there was no outcry from the Jotuns in the room at this accusation, though there was some nervous fidgeting amongst them.

Thrym did not say anything, merely gestured for Loki to continue. Loki frowned even deeper. "Allow me to be blunt. By my reckoning, the Hammer is here, in Thrymheim, taken on your orders." He met Thrym's red eyes, his own starting to bleed red at the edges. "Am I wrong?"

Thrym stared at Loki for a moment, then gave a short laugh. "No, Laufeyson, you are not wrong. Mjolnir is here, far below us, locked away within my vaults." He leaned forward on his throne. "I know what you seek. I will not return the Hammer to you." Loki bared his teeth in a snarl and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by the Giant King. "Unless," Loki settled, waiting for the condition, "Unless, Freya, the lovely goddess of beauty, is brought to me. I grow old, and am in need of an heir. An Asgardian bride will suit me well. The mingling of our two mighty races will further cement our alliance, by bond of marriage."

Loki surprised himself by not showing any reaction to this request. Was Thrym mad? Freya would never agree to such a thing, already having had a husband of her own, as well as children, and not being particularly fond of Frost Giants in general. But, he did not say this aloud. Instead, he only frowned, then inclined his head to the King of Jotuns. "I shall take my leave, and bring your request before the Aesir and the Vanir. It is for them to decide how to respond. Farewell." He did not wait for them to respond, teleporting away from Thrymheim, as far as his power would allow. He knew that he should have asked how they managed to actually steal the mighty hammer, but also knew that they would not tell him anyway.

Once he had reappeared out in the ice fields, he looked up to the grey-clouded sky. "Heimdall, open the Bifrost."

After a short moment, nothing happened. He frowned and looked around him, curiously. His keen eyes and sharp hearing scanned the area for disturbances. All was quiet and he was about to call out to Heimdall again, but a soft creak, like something heavy on thin ice, reached his ears and he spun, energy daggers forming in his hands. He caught sight of a Jotun moving behind him and let his daggers fly, catching the beast in the neck and chest. It fell with a cry just as a roar sounded behind him.

Loki spun, a hidden dagger falling into his hand from within his sleeve. He swung overhead, bringing the weapon downward, the blade make contact with a larger Jotun that had charged him from behind. The dagger stabbed into the Giant's stomach and it howled with pain. Loki used all of his physical strength to hook the dagger inside the Giant and then pulled the beast from its feet. It crashed to its knees, then onto its face as Loki ripped the dagger free, teleported behind it, then leapt forward, planting both feet into its back. He knelt on the Giant's back and raised his dagger, then brought it down, driving the blade deep into the back of the Giant's head. It seized up, then fell still as Loki removed the dagger. He wiped it clean and returned it to its hidden sheath inside his sleeve. He studied the Jotun at his feet and frowned. By the dark markings that adorned him, these were not of Thrym's kingdom, rather one of the countless tribes that called this frozen wasteland home. He sighed, then looked upward once more. "Open the Bifrost, Heimdall."

The clouds began to swirl around into a cylinder-like shape as the beam of the Bifrost came down. It swallowed Loki up and he was instantly transported back to Asgard.

**XXXX**

Loki stood facing Thor and Odin in the throne room once more. He had just returned to the hall and they were eager for news. It was Thor that broke the silence. "What did you find out, brother?"

Loki raised his hand to rub his chin and sighed. "The news is twofold. First, your Hammer is on Jotunheim, in Thrym's vault. He told me so himself. Second, he refuses to return Mjolnir unless Freya is given to him as a bride. He seems to believe that their union will strengthen relations between Asgard and Jotunheim."

"Preposterous!" Thor thundered, rage heavy in his eyes and stance. "I will not allow Mjolnir to be used as some bargaining chip!"

"Calm yourself, Thor," Loki told him, sighing again. He should have seen this coming,

Thor turned to glare at Loki, his eyes ablaze. "Do not tell me to calm down! The Frost Giants have taken Mjolnir and are demanding that we hand over one of our own in exchange. It is an insult and I won't stand for it!"

Loki opened his mouth to respond, but Odin cut their argument short. "Enough!" Both princes turned to Odin as he spoke, Thor looking like he had just swallowed a mouthful of salt and Loki looking a bit tired. "This decision is not ours to make." He turned to one of the guards in the hall. "Summon the Lady Freya here to the hall." The guard bowed and marched away to carry out the order from his king.

Thor and Loki both took seats on the stairs at the foot of the throne, Loki in pensive silence, his fingers coming up to rub his temples as he felt a headache growing, and Thor in brooding silence. Thor could be seen taking long deep breaths, trying to bring his temper back under control, it was a slow-going effort, but not in vain it seemed. Soon he deflated and settled into a calm posture, though his anger was still stewing just beyond skin deep. Loki understood what Thor was feeling, this was the second time Mjolnir had been taken from him and losing Mjolnir was like losing a piece of himself and he was desperate to have it back, but he had grown wiser over the short time after his exile and did not like his own rage. His blood lust had diminished, but was still there, hidden beneath the surface. Right now, though, he wanted to smash in the skulls of every Frost Giant he could get his hands on in order to reclaim Mjolnir and he felt too much like his old, immature self for his own comfort.

They waited quietly for Freya's arrival. They did not have to wait long, as the goddess, dressed in a light, flowing silken gown, her straight blond hair tied back behind her head in a long braid that fell down to the small of her back, stepped into the hall, her expression curious. She walked over to the throne, stopping short of the first step, shying away from Loki when he looked up at her from his spot on the stair. She had never been comfortable around the Trickster, and today was no exception.

She looked up at Odin and bowed, then spoke after clearing her throat. "You summoned me, Allfather?"

Odin nodded. "I did."

"What is it you require of me?" Freya asked.

Odin frowned, thinking of how to phrase what he needed to say. "A situation has arisen that requires a decision from you."

Freya frowned as well and tilted her head in confusion. "What sort of decision, Allfather?"

It was not Odin, but Thor that spoke, his voice calm, disguising the fire burning inside him. "Thrym, the king of Jotunheim, has stolen Mjolnir."

Freya was about to ask what this had to do with her, when Loki continued where Thor left off. "He has refused to return the hammer unless we give you to him as his bride."

Freya's eyes grew wide and she felt her jaw drop as she stared at them all in appalled silence. "I...what?...NO! I refuse! I will not sell myself to a Frost Giant just for your precious hammer!"

Thor frowned, but Loki's face remained unreadable. He then sighed and looked resigned to something. "Well, I had hoped that it wouldn't come to this." He looked to Freya. "Do you have a bridal gown?"

Freya narrowed her eyes at the Trickster. "Stay your tricks, Loki. You will not force me into this!"

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Answer the damned question, Freya!" Loki growled. "Do you, or do you not have a bridal gown?"

Freya glared at him but nodded her head. "I do. And a matching gown for my bridesmaid."

Loki nodded. "Good. Fetch them please."

Thor looked at Loki as Freya began to leave the room. "For what purpose do we need the gowns for, brother?" Thor asked. Odin was looking at his adoptive son in curiosity as well.

Loki smiled thinly and shrugged as he got up and began to walk from the room. "We have a wedding to prepare for."

**XXXX Eight Days Later.**

"LOKI!"

Thor's outraged voice rang through the halls of the royal chambers, causing Loki to chuckle. For the past eight days, he had been working tirelessly with the gowns provided by Freya, and today they were finally ready. Thor had just been given his.

Natasha looked up from where she was leaning against the wall, watching Loki work on his own gown, as the door to her and Loki's room was thrown open to reveal a red-faced Thor, holding a flowing white gown and veil out in front of him at arms length as if it where a dangerous snake.

Loki, who had been putting the final touches on his own gown, turned to face his brother, a set of sewing needles held between his lips and one floating in front of him, controlled by magic. "Yes, Thor?" he asked innocently, his voice a bit muffled by not being able to open his mouth all the way.

"What is this?!" Thor demanded, thrusting the gown and veil toward Loki.

Loki raised an eyebrow and reached up to remove the needles from his mouth, shrugging. "That is a bridal gown, Thor."

Thor glared. "What was it doing in my room?!"

Loki looked at him as if he were an ignorant child. "It's yours. You wear it."

"I will not wear this!" Thor said, shaking the gown for emphasis.

Loki leveled Thor with a hard, impatient gaze while Natasha, who was sitting on their bed with her hands folded in her lap, bit back a smirk. "You _will_ wear it, Thor. The wedding is today." He severed the thread that he had been sewing into the gown and set about putting away the needles. He stood and looked over his handiwork, nodding to himself. he turned to Thor and gestured to his own, newly finished gown. "And I'll be wearing this one. I worked on yours first. I had to extend the neck and hem lines so that they would fit your frame. Mine wasn't as much work, so I did yours first that way it would be done in time."

Loki waved his hand and the gown vanished from its frame and appeared on his body, replacing his usual clothing, along with a small ring of flowers on top of his head and a light layer of make-up. Thor's eyes widened comically and Natasha had to look away so her face would not reveal that she was fighting laughter as Loki twirled in front of them, a deranged smile on his face.

Loki stopped and turned back to Thor. "Come now, brother, it is your turn. Let's get you ready."

Thor shook his head and began to back away from Loki, who was advancing on him with a devious smirk. Before he could escape, Loki had used his magic to make the bridal gown replace Thor's clothes, making the Thunderer freeze in place, dropping the veil onto the floor at his feet as he stood in shock.

Loki scooped up the veil and reached up to place it gently on Thor's head. "There. Perfect." He nodded. "We are almost ready." Before Thor could resist, Loki had pulled him over to the vanity that had been given to Natasha by Frigga, even though the red-haired woman never really used it.

Loki pushed Thor down onto the bench and swiftly began going through the drawers in search of various forms of make-up. Thor noticed this and glared at Loki. "You are going too far, brother!"

Loki smiled. "I haven't gone far enough." Thor made to stand up. "Do you want to get Mjolnir back or not?" Loki asked.

Thor froze and his face grew pained as he thought about it. After a moment, he sighed and sunk back down onto the seat. "Let's just get this over with."

Loki smirked and set to work, 'prettying' Thor up, with Thor scowling mutinously at his reflection the whole time. He also added bridal jewels to the outfit and a replica of Freya's necklace, _Brisingamen_. After he was finished, he looked over his work and nodded, then frowned. "Hmm...forgot about the beard..."

Thor reached up and rubbed his beard. "You are not touching my beard, Loki. Don't even think about it."

Loki narrowed his eyes but nodded, pulling the veil down over Thor's face, effectively hiding him and his unwomanly features from sight. "That will have to do it, then." He pulled Thor to his feet and turned to Natasha. "Well?"

Natasha pulled her features into a blank mask, though her lips kept trying to tilt upward in a smile. "Quite..." She trailed off, not sure how to describe what she was seeing in front of her. For a moment, she wondered if this was actually happening, or if it were just some strange dream. But, she knew it wasn't a dream, so she looked between the two brothers, trying to keep a straight face. "You both look lovely," she said, cringing as she said it.

Loki smirked, seeing her real reaction. He knew that they both made quite unattractive women, but these were Frost Giants they were going to be dealing with, and he knew that they both still looked far more pretty than the vast majority of Frost Giant women, with exception to a very rare few, Skadi came to mind. "Come, Thor. It is time that we depart." He walked over to Natasha and gave her a quick kiss, which was a bit awkward for both of them, given Loki's current attire, before following a sulking Thor out of the room. As soon as they were out of the room and the door closed behind them, Natasha finally let her mask slip and her lips turned upward in amusement, a laugh escaping from her lips.

**XXXX**

They arrived on Jotunheim and the wind immediately sent a chill through Thor, though Loki was unaffected, and he instantly wished, not for the first time, that he was not wearing a dress, but, unfortunately, it was a necessary discomfort that he would just have to endure. He turned to Loki, who nodded to their left. Thor turned to where his brother was looking and had to fight the urge to go into a battle stance.

Several Jotuns emerged from the darkness around them and studied them curiously for a moment. Loki's eyes sought out the tribal markings on their brows. Thrym's.

Not a second after he noted this, one of them stepped forward. "Who goes there?"

Thor remained silent, much to Loki's relief. Loki then cleared his throat and spoke, his voice a few octaves higher than his normal tone. "The Lady Freya has come," he gestured to Thor, "at your Lord, King Thrym's, request."

The Jotun tilted his head curiously, then looked to the others, unsure. One nearby whispered to him. "There have been whispers around the palace that our Lord has requested the Asgardian for his bride."

The first Jotun glanced back at Loki and Thor in their disguises and nodded. "Follow us." He turned around and began to walk away. Loki silently willed Thor forward and they fell in step behind the Giant, the rest of them forming up in a protective, yet confining, circle around them.

They walked for what seemed like forever until the high pale walls of Thrymheim came into view ahead of them in the distance. Loki kept his breathing even, but he could hear Thor growl softly from beside him. Loki reached out and grasped Thor's wrist. "Stay your hand, brother," he quietly hissed, so that their guards would not hear. "You must wait."

Thor's icy eyes burned out through the veil with anger, but he took a deep breath and settled himself, both hands clenched restlessly into fists. Loki nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the front.

They soon came to the gates, which were closed today, and the scout at the head of their procession called up for them to be opened. The heavy stone gates swung slowly open with the deep thunderous sound of cracking ice. Loki winced internally at the sound and Thor clenched his fists tighter.

They were lead into the city and through the wide streets until they came to the hall of King Thrym. The scout pushed open the doors to the keep and lead them inside. Thrym, as before, sat upon his throne at the far end of the hall, and as before, there were many whispers upon their entrance from the many Jotuns gathered in the hall.

They came to a stop at the foot of the throne and the scout introduced them to the King. "My King, may I present the Lady Freya."

Thrym looked over the scout's head at Thor, whose veil hid him from the giant's view, and his lips curled upward in a triumphant smile. "Welcome, my lady." He stood and descended from his throne. The scouts bowed respectfully, as did the others in the hall, and moved back to stand along the walls. Thrym began to circle Thor, his red eyes roaming over him. Loki spied Thor's hand twitch and silently hoped that his brother would not do anything foolish. "I am glad that you decided to accept my proposal. And I hope that you may find my domain to your liking. It may be strange to you now, but I am sure that, given time, you will come to see it as home." Thor remained silent following these words and Thrym frowned. "Have you no words to say, my dear?"

Before Thor could open his mouth, Loki spoke up. "My Lady's eagerness to wed your lordship has made her speechless, my Lord."

Thrym considered Loki for a moment, then smiled, turning back to Thor. "Then let us tarry no longer." He turned to those gathered in the hall. "Prepare a feast, for tonight, I take the Lady Freya as my wife!"

A shout of joy filled the hall as the giants rushed to obey their King's orders. Thor and Loki stayed in the hall with King Thrym, who spoke in his low, rumbling voice to Thor as they waited; all the while, Thor stayed silent.

Finally, near evening, the feast was prepared and they were escorted to the dining hall, where a large, Jotun-sized table was set up in the center of the room. Atop the table were massive roasted oxen and other foods, and several barrels of mead were set up along the walls, set upright and the lids removed so that all one had to do was dip their cup in and enjoy the sweet honey wine. Thrym sat at the head of the table and Thor was at his left hand, with Loki next to Thor on the long bench that stretched the length of the table.

Throughout the feast, Thor ate and drank much, so much that the giants seemed somewhat amazed. "I have never seen a bride eat or drink so much," Thrym commented after Thor had drained his twentieth mug of mead, and started on his third ox leg.

Loki thought quickly, his sharp mind coming up with a lie almost instantly. "My lady has fasted from food these past eight days, so great was her eagerness and longing for Jotunheim." Thrym seemed to accept this and Loki sighed with relief. The feast continued.

**XXXX**

From under the veil, Thor was glaring out at the Jotuns as he stiffly chewed his food. He downed another mug of mead, hoping that it would relax him a bit. But, he was disappointed when it did not have the desired effect. He suspected that the mead was watered down so that the guards and warriors who drank it would not become too inhibited so as to not be fit for battle. He frowned deeply.

At his side, Loki ate at a slower, more proper pace, sipping his mead with an air of dignity. Thor envied Loki his ability to stay completely calm in the stressful situations. He straightened his back and continued to eat.

A short while later, Thrym turned his attention to him and reached out to lift the veil from Thor's face. The movement set Thor on edge and he turned a hard, deadly glare at the Frost Giant that had stolen his mighty, beloved hammer from him. He heard Thrym say something about wanting to kiss his bride and he fought every instinct to lash out at the Jotun King.

Loki subtly gave his hand a small twist, willing his magic to hide Thor's features from the amorous Jotun King. He hoped that it was enough.

As the veil cleared his face, Thrym dropped it in shock, leaping back at the sight of Thor's enraged eyes. "Her eyes are like fire! It is almost frightening."

"Apologies, good King," Loki spoke up. "Lady Freya has not been able to sleep these past eight days, so eager was she to come to Jotunheim."

Thrym frowned almost suspiciously at Loki, then turned back to Thor. Another Jotun at the table, nearby to them, spoke up. "Perhaps we should proceed with the evening, my King."

Thrym nodded and turned to one of his guards. "Bring forth the hammer Mjolnir."

The Jotun hurried from the room to retrieve the mighty hammer.

**XXXX**

Loki glanced up as the Jotun returned, cradling Mjolnir in his large hands. The Jotun moved deliberately to Thrym's side and presented the hammer to him. Thrym reached out and grasped Mjolnir my its handle and lifted it up for all to see. Thor's gaze followed it. Loki's keen eyes took in every detail and he arched a brow in curiosity as his eyes landed on a strange object attached to Mjolnir's handle, just beneath the head, where it met with the hilt. It appeared to be made of a smooth polished metal material and had a series of small blue lights on it that reminded him of the glow of the Tesseract or his staff, Lævateinn.

Thrym smiled wide at them as he held the hammer aloft, then slowly lowered it to the table. He then stood and walked around to stand beside Thor. He leaned forward and set the hammer down in front of the Thunderer, still smiling. "As promised, the mighty Mjolnir in return for the Lady Freya." He turned to Loki. "On the morrow, you shall return this to its master, on Asgard." Loki nodded, playing along with his role.

Thor reached out and grasped his hammer, frowning when it did not thrum with power at his touch as it usually did. It was alarmingly dull. It was then that his eyes found what Loki's had seen almost instantly.

Curiously, he reached out and touched the strange metal clasp. Thrym noted this and laughed. "A clever little device, is it not? It is powered by Mjolnir's own magic, and binds it. It was only with this that we were able to move Mjolnir at all."

Thor growled softly, but covered it with a cough. He cleared his throat and spoke in as high a voice as he could manage. "And, how is it removed?"

Thrym laughed again. "Why in the Nine Realms would you want to do that? If we remove it, you would not be able to lift Mjolnir."

Thor spoke again, with a feigned innocence. "Oh, I was just wondering. It is a fascinating creation and I was merely curious as to how such a marvelous device might work."

Thrym smiled and Loki had to marvel at Thor's scheme. "I suppose there is no harm in showing you," the Jotun King said. He leaned forward, purposely invading the space around Thor, placing his head over his shoulder and reaching an arm around him to demonstrate how to remove the device. Thor, to his credit, did not rip off the arm. "You simply press these little lights in this order, like this," he tapped the lights in a short sequence, " and then... it opens." As if on cue, the device fell away from the hammer and fell onto the table with a soft thump.

Thor reached out and grasped Mjolnir once more, a smile lighting up his features as he felt his mighty hammer respond to his touch. Thrym stood by watching as the being that he believed to be Freya reached out and began to lift Mjolnir from the table top with ease. The being stood and held the hammer high, arcs of electricity spiralling around it.

He took a step back, his eyes going wide as the being turned on him and with a single movement, lunged forward, hammer descending down in a deadly arc to smash into the top of the Jotun King's skull, shattering it upon impact, sending blackish red blood spraying in every direction along with skull fragments. The sickening crunch of breaking bone made Loki inwardly cringe.

All of the remaining Jotun's stared in horror as their King's body fell into a limp heap at Thor's feet, his head cloven in two by the vicious blow dealt with the mighty hammer Mjolnir.

Thor turned to face them, his disguise slowly melting away as Loki used his magic to change their attire back to their normal clothing.

The guards were the first to react, howling with rage as they formed various weapons of ice and charged at Thor. Thor met their challenge with a battle cry of his own and bounded eagerly forward to do battle.

Loki stood as well, Lævateinn appearing in his hand, glowing menacingly. The Jotun that had brought out Mjolnir swung an ice spike down at him and Loki sidestepped quickly before thrusting the tip of Lævateinn into the beast's ribs, giving it a vicious twist before ripping it out and slashing out to cut its throat. It fell dead at his feet, but Loki was already turning away.

He reached out to grab the device that had been removed from Mjolnir, but, just as his fingers were about to touch it, a dead Jotun slammed through the table, sending the little metal ring flying into a mess of blood food and chunks of thick broken wood. He cursed kicked a bit of the destroyed bench out of the way and cast his eyes about for the device.

His eyes caught sight of a bit of silverish material and he made to go to it, but after only a few steps he was knocked off his feet by a backhand blow from a Jotun, sending him flying back to slam into the wall of the hall. The air rushed from his lungs upon impact and he dropped to his knees on the floor. Taking a quick deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet once more, his teeth bearing in semblance of a grin.

The Jotun that had hit him was standing in the middle of the room, glaring down at him with his arm poised to strike yet another blow. Loki met his smouldering eyes with his own calm ones and then began to sprint forward. The Jotun did the same. At the last second, Loki leapt into the air, the tip of his scepter aimed at the Jotun's heart.

The blade pierced the dark blue flesh, slicing through with an ease that was almost startling. The Frost Giant fell back, with Loki's feet now planted firmly on his abdomen as he rode the beast down. The crash of the Giant landing on a fragment of bench was drowned out by the screams of wounded or dying Jotuns and the enraged, yet triumphant, shouts of Thor as Mjolnir rained death and destruction through many a devastating strike of lightning and cold, remorseless Dwarf-forged steel.

Before the corpse had even settled, Loki launched off of it and brought Lævateinn down to stab through the soft tissue between the shoulder and neck of another Jotun. The Giant screamed as the tip of the scepter began to glow inside its flesh, then that scream was silence as the energy was released and exploded within its massive body, tearing it apart from the inside out. Black-purple blood sprayed in all directions as the Jotun was ripped almost in half by the attack.

Loki used his sleeve to wipe the blood from his face as he glanced around at the carnage, noting that Thor was now finishing off the last Jotun in the room. He huffed and ran a hand over his hair, smoothing any displaced locks. Almost as an afterthought, he glanced down and smirked. reaching down, he plucked the strange device from the remains of the table and held it up in the blue light of the torches that lit the room.

Thor walked over to where he was standing and peered at the device. "Do you know what that is, brother?"

Loki turned it over in his fingers. "No. I have not seen the like of this, on Asgard or on Earth."

A loud thud was heard as the doors to the hall were smashed off their hinges. "Proper examination will have to wait, brother," Thor said, turning to face the newcomers. "We have company."

Loki nodded, slipping the device into one of the internal pockets of his garment.

The newly arrived Jotun guards and warriors took in the sight before them with widened eyes. Then their gaze fell on the two sons of Odin, standing in the center of the destruction. The Giant at the head of the group ordered them forward and they swarmed in through the gap where the doors had previously stood.

Loki and Thor moved to meet them, Mjolnir and Lævateinn cutting a bloody swath through the oncoming horde. Left and right and center they struck, laying low all in their path. They soon turned back-to-back with Loki killing those that where left behind them while Thor continued to fight forward, clearing their path. As they moved, they slowly rotated, trading positions, then switching again.

Soon they found themselves in the courtyard outside of Thrymheim's keep. Here, they had more room to maneuver and fight became more chaotic as they broke formation and set about slaying their pursuers.

The numbers of the Jotuns dwindled until there were but a few remaining of the group that had surrounded them. Thor raised Mjolnir high, calling on the powerful lightning that he was so known for. The white-blue bolts of electricity snaked out all around them, burning away at the Jotuns. The odor of charred flesh began to permeate the air, along with the smell of ozone.

The head of a Frost Giant fell to the snow at Loki's feet as he turned away, seeing the lightning tear through the remaining Jotuns. After a moment, eery silence fell over them courtyard, broken only by the breathing of the two brothers.

Thor turned from side to side, looking around for any new foes. "Is that it?"

Loki scoffed. "I doubt it."

"Pathetic," Thor spat.

Loki shook his head. "Nevertheless, we have what we came for. Mjolnir is retrieved and the thief lies dead. Let's go home."

Thor looked as if he were about to refuse, but sighed. "Yes, let's."

Loki walked over to Thor and placed his hand on his shoulder and called his magic to teleport them back to the ice fields so that they may call upon Heimdall to open the Bifrost to them.

Then, blinding pain lanced through his chest, near his shoulder, and he felt himself falling, then Thor roared as the world around him flashed, a bolt of lightning arching out to devour the flesh of the Jotun that had snuck up on them as he landed on his knees in the snow. Loki's hand reached blindly for the wound and found a shard of ice impaling him there. With a grunt, he ripped the shard out and threw it aside, his blood staining it and then spilling onto the snow below, turning it a dark red. He clutched at the open wound, willing it to heal. He was able to stem the bleeding, but could not close the wound.

He gave up the effort, knowing that he would still have to teleport them out of there. He made to stand, but pain shot through him as he tried to move. Involuntarily, a pained cry escaped his lips.

Instantly, Thor was at his side, his arm going around his brother. "Loki! Are you alright? How bad is it?"

Loki forced a laugh, coughing as he did. "A flesh wound, dear brother, nothing more." He tried to stand again, but was again brought back to his knees by the pain. "Heh, well, that is unfortunate."

Thor frowned deeply and wrapped his arm more securely around his brother before heaving him to his feet amidst gasps from Loki as the movements caused his wound to flare up again. "Come, brother. You need a healer."

Loki laughed again. "Just so." he called his magic from within him and soon they melted away from the courtyard.

They reappeared in the ice fields. Thor turned his eyes upward. "HEIMDALL! OPEN THE BIFROST!"

They breathed a synchronous sigh of relief as the flood of rainbow light surrounded them and they were pulled up and away from the frozen wastes of Jotunheim.

**XXXX**

**A/N: Another chapter down. A bit longer than originally intended, but oh well. I hope you enjoyed this. If so: Review, but do not flame.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**

**P.S****.: I have created a short teaser for this story and uploaded it to YouTube. If you wish to watch it, simply search ****'Resistance FanFic Teaser'**** and it should be near the top results. There are some hints and clues as to what is to come in the video. I did the best that I could with what I had. Let me know what you think.**


	5. The Mundane and the Magic

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Back again with a new chapter, sorry that it took a bit longer than I had intended. Thank you to all that have reviewed the previous chapters and thank you to all that have stuck with me so far. There is some stuff in here that is based on the Trials of Loki comics and the Myths from the Prose Edda. There are variations in both so I used what fit my story from both sources. Also, there are characters from the comics that make their début in this chapter. Enjoy.**

**RESISTANCE**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter V: The Mundane and the Magic**

**'Apply layers to reality, things only you can see. Add a beat to normality to tap the core of insanity. I let my dreams cross over to days of endless gray. If I could merge the mundane and the magic. We'd forged a new unknown. I let my dreams cross over to nothingness and back again. If I could merge the mundane and the magic. Where is the dark I came to find?'**

**- The Mundane and the Magic by Dark Tranquillity.**

"That fool! What in the Nine Realms was he thinking?!"

These words were punctuated by the sound of glass shattering as Johann slammed his hand down on the table in front of him, his hand shattering the glass cup that had been sitting there. The pieces now lay scattered across the tabletop. Amora flinched at the sound. "I couldn't tell you, Johann," she said, looking down.

Johann stood turned away from the table and continued to rant. "I give his the Inhibitor with the suggestion that he steal Mjolnir from Asgard. And what does he do? He uses the hammer as a bargaining chip!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "The incompetence of Jotuns is astounding." He lowered his hand and stood straight. "Well, what's done is done. No use crying over spilled blood."

Amora blinked, but said nothing.

Johann pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, brushing the fragments of broken glass away with a contemptuous glance. "This sets us back a bit. We find ourselves short on allies."

Amora nodded and took a seat opposite him. "What do we do now?"

Johann thought deeply for a moment, then let out a long breath. "We recruit." At Amora's asking look, he continued. "There are bound to be many Asgardians who are dissatisfied with Odin's leadership. We find them and bring them to our side."

Amora nodded. "I'll get on it right away." She stood and made to leave.

"Amora," Johann said, as he hand was on the door. She looked over her shoulder at him as he came up behind her. "This is a dangerous game we are playing. Failure means death. Be careful."

She looked up at him for a moment, their eyes meeting. She swallowed as she turned away. "I will." She lifted the handle on the door and exited out onto the streets. She heard the door close and lock behind her as she walked.

Johann turned back to the room and made his way down to his workroom.

The incident on Jotunheim had been a major inconvenience, not only had he lost an ally, he had lost possession of the Inhibitor, which was now in the hands of Prince Loki. The royal family was now suspicious, trying to determine the origins of the Inhibitor. He doubted that they could track it back to him though. Nor could they use the magic that Amora had provided to power it to track it, as it was tainted with Mjolnir's magic now as well.

He opened the hidden door to his secret workshop and strode to his desk, taking a seat and opening one of the drawers. He pulled out the pair of cuffs that he was working on. He worked mindlessly, his thoughts far from the task at hand.

As he sat and worked, he could not help but wonder at his plans. He wondered if, maybe, he was reaching too high, setting his gaze to far above the horizon. But those thoughts did not last long in his mind as he swiftly reassured himself, that this was destiny. He had been blessed with the power of the gods, and now he would use that power, along with the strength of his mind, to seize control of Asgard and bring the All-Father and the Thunderer to their knees. Then he would take his place on the throne of Asgard. And, this time, there would be no one to stand in his way.

As he thought this, his thoughts turned back to his that fateful day, aboard the _Valkyrie_, facing off against Captain America. In that moment, when he had held the Tesseract in his hand, he had seen his destiny. The Tesseract had shown him, and then it had transported him to the scene of his salvation, to Asgard. The pain of that travel had been unimaginable, but he had burned before and that agony was no stranger to him.

The cuffs in his hands glowed brightly with blue light, the perfect harmony between science and magic. It was with this union that he would forge his empire. With this in mind, he continued his work.

**XXXX**

Loki felt a hand come down to land on his shoulder. He looked up to see his brother's smiling face peering down at him. "How is the arm?" Thor asked.

Loki smirked. "Just fine." And it was, now that the healers had fixed him up. The wound had been more severe than he had first thought, but not so bad that he could not recover. "Nothing more than a scratch."

Thor laughed and took a seat beside Loki, laying Mjolnir on the table beside him as Loki pushed an empty plate away from him and took draught from his cup of water. They were currently in the dining hall of the palace of Asgard. Natasha was sitting on the other side of Loki, picking at the remains of her breakfast, watching the two brothers as they conversed. "A scratch that nearly laid you low, brother!" Thor reminded his younger adoptive sibling with soft chuckle.

Loki scowled. "Don't be ridiculous, Thor. As if I could be felled by something so small."

Thor spoke, his voice joking, but his eyes held a serious light. "You aren't invincible, Loki. None of us are, despite what we like to think."

"Of course we aren't, Thor. We may be gods, but even gods can bleed. even gods can die." Loki sighed, a despairing expression on his face. "A fact that we both know well."

Thor's face fell a bit as well at the mention of their brother's death. Natasha, sensing the heavy atmosphere, spoke up, eyeing Thor's hammer. "So, Loki, how were you involved in the forging of Mjolnir?"

Thor and Loki exchanged glances, then turned back to her. "Have you ever wonder why Sif's hair is dark, while all other women here have golden hair?" Loki asked.

Natasha thought about that. It did strike her as odd, but she hadn't really thought about it. She nodded. "Yes. But what does that have to do with the forging of Mjolnir?"

Loki chuckled while Thor smiled. "Everything," the Thunder God answered.

"Believe it or not, there was a time when I was a jealous god," Loki said. "I was jealous of the relationship between Thor and Sif," he admitted. Natasha frowned slightly at this, but said nothing. "At the time, Sif had the most beautiful golden hair that had ever been seen. It was her pride and joy...that and her sword. So, one night, I snuck into her room with a knife and sheared all of that golden hair from her head. The next morning, I was in the great hall, amusing the others with displays of magical skill, like a court jester," he added the last part with some malice. "In the middle of my performance, Thor comes bursting into the hall and grabs me by the throat and demands that I fix what I did."

Thor, who had been nodding along, cringed at the memory. "I was much more short-tempered in those days."

Natasha had seen Thor's temper, and so smiled. She could easily imagine what his face would have looked like.

Loki continued. "Next, Sif came into the hall in tears. I felt extremely guilty in that moment, so, of course, I agreed to fix it. It was only supposed to be a prank. So, I set off for Svartelfheim, the home world of the Dark Elves. There, also lived the Dwarves. I sought out the Sons of Ivaldi, and I coaxed them into spinning gold so fine as to be like a woman's hair. They crafted this, as well as the great spear Gungnir and the ship _Skidbladnir_." Natasha arched her brow, wondering how they could have forged a ship. "It was enchanted. When not being used, it was no bigger than my hand, and made of gold.." Natasha nodded her understanding. "They had made them as gifts for the other gods." Loki sighed. "As was my nature, I found a way to create mischief out of this. I thanked the Sons of Ivaldi and left their caves. Instead of returning to Asgard with the hair and the gifts, I sought out the brothers Brokk and Eitri, both known well for their smithing skills. I showed them the gifts that the Sons of Ivaldi had forged and challenged them to outdo the craftsmanship. They were quite proud of their work, and they were greedy...and they hated me. I bet my head that they could not make gifts more magnificent than what the Sons of Ivaldi had created. They eagerly accepted. "

Natasha's lips parted slightly. "You mean, as in if they won, they could cut off your head?"

Loki nodded. "Indeed." Natasha frowned deeply at him, but let him continue his story. "It was a curious luck, if you could call it that, that a wasp had wandered into the forge and stung Eitri on his eyelid"

Thor held up a hand. "Luck, brother?"

Loki looked insulted. "Yes. What else could it have been?"

"Your scheming," Thor answered.

Loki dramatically placed his hand over his heart. "My dear brother, you wound me!" Thor snorted as he reached out for an empty cup and a jug of mead, and Loki grinned. "Alright, I admit it, I was the wasp. I shape-shifted into a wasp and stung Eitri. I was afraid that I may lose the bet. I almost lost my head with worry!" Thor, who had been taking a drink from his cup, coughed as he choked on the mead. Loki laughed at his own pun.

"That was not funny," Thor told him, scowling.

Natasha smiled at the two of them, patiently waiting for Loki to continue his tale. Loki glanced behind them as the Warriors Three and Sif came in and joined them at the table.

Loki stopped laughing, but his smile remained. "What tale are you telling this time?" Fandral asked.

"He is telling Natasha about the time he cut off Sif's hair and the forging of Mjolnir," Thor told them.

Sif frowned. "I still resent you for that," she told Loki.

Loki held up his hands in defence. "It was a harmless rank. Nothing more."

Sif said nothing but gestured for him to continue.

Loki cleared his throat. "Where was I? Oh, yes. So, after I stung Eitri, he accidentally broke off half of the handle of Mjolnir in his momentary blindness. Along with Mjolnir they gave a golden arm ring and a golden boar. Eitri sent his brother, Brokk, along with me back to Asgard to hear Odin's judgement. When I returned home, I gathered all of the gods together in the hall and asked father to judge each gift to determine which was the best. First, I restored Sif's hair. Then I presented father with Gungnir. The arm ring, I gave to Freya. The boar, I gifted to Heimdall. Then I gave _Skidbladnir_ to Balder. After that, I stood back to let father judge. But Brokk, that damned dwarf, he told father that I was still hiding Mjolnir." He stopped and took a breath. "I had planned to keep Mjolnir for myself. It was small, and I felt that it was the perfect weapon for me. Reluctantly, I presented it to father. Father stood from his throne and spoke. He said, 'That one, it is by far the best that I have seen today. As beautiful as my spear is, and as magnificent as the rest are, that hammer outshines them all.'" Loki laughed humorlessly. "I protested, and tried to tell father to take his words back, but it was too late. Brokk had already announced to the entire court that he and his brother had won the bet. That my head was now forfeit."

Loki swallowed thickly, as memories came flooding back. "Everyone laughed, then. They saw this all as funny. I did not see it as so. So, I told Brokk that while my head was forfeit, my neck was not, and if he wanted my head, he would have to take it without harming my neck."

Thor looked down with much shame; he knew what was coming.

"Brokk turned to Thor and pleaded with him to help him. 'You know Loki's tricks!' he said, 'help me.' Thor looked me in the eyes and I silently pleaded with him to spare me. To have mercy. Thor and I did not have the best of relationships back in those days. Thor said...he said..." Loki trailed off.

"'You will not make a mockery of everything, Loki', I said," Thor spoke up. "I then wrestled Loki to the ground and held him still while Brokk set forth sewing my brother's mouth shut. After that, all those present laughed. Then, Brokk placed Mjolnir in my hands and told me that it was a gift to me for being honorable and just, and for being a friend of the Dwarves." He looked at Mjolnir. "I love my hammer, and would not trade it for all of the gold in the Nine Realms, I regret the way that it came into my keeping. If I could take back my actions that day, I would do so in a heartbeat. But, what is done cannot be undone."

Loki smiled softly at his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dearest brother, I have long since forgiven you for what wrong you did to me."

Natasha did not know what to say to this. She felt as though she were intruding on a private moment between the two brothers, bound by all but blood. Her hand strayed to her still-flat stomach and knew that as much as she felt like an outsider here, she did belong. Finally she found her voice. "What happened next?"

It was Sif who picked up the story. She had also felt guilty, for having laughed at Loki's misfortune. "Loki ran from the hall and ripped the threads from his lips. The next morning, I awoke with my hair the way it is now. I knew that it was Loki's way of getting revenge for his humiliation." She shot a glance at the Trickster out of the corner of her eye. Loki shrugged, unconcerned.

Natasha reached out and took Loki's hand under the table. He turned to her and smiled gently at her. "Heh. With a past like mine, it's a wonder that I'm still sane."

Natasha smiled too. "Are you sure that you are?"

Loki thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "No." Natasha raised her brow skeptically and a grin crept its way onto Loki's face.

Thor chuckled, feeling the heavy atmosphere that had settled over them lift. He decided to change the subject. "Are you two still up for going back to Midgard with me?"

Natasha nodded. "Of course. It will be nice to see the others again. Call me crazy, but I've kind of missed them."

"As have I, Natasha, as have I," Thor agreed. By the gleam in his eyes, Loki guessed that he was thinking of Jane.

Loki leaned back in his chair, then seemed to change his mind and stood. Natasha looked at him curiously. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm going to have a look at that ring we found in Jotunheim," Loki explained. "If any clues exist to tell us who forged such a device, I intend to find them."

Thor nodded. "No Frost Giant would have the skill or magical knowledge to create that thing. It was either stolen, or given to them."

Loki moved his head in affirmation. "I suspect so. Either way, it is a serious matter. If the Frost Giants could use it to render Mjolnir void of power so that they could steal it, I shudder to think what could be done if it were in more capable hands." He reached out and picked up his cup, draining the remainder of the water in a single swallow. "Well, I'm off. I will be in the treasury if anyone should need me."

With that, he leaned down and planted a kiss on Natasha's temple before setting off out of the room.

**XXXX**

It was around noon when Johann emerged from his workroom and made his way to the palace. He went straight to the healing rooms, merely to check in with the healers as was his custom. After catching up on all of the latest information from that outlet, he left them.

He had known that the Lady Natasha was now with child. That news had spread like wild-fire throughout the upper ranks of Asgard. There were now whispers as to whether Odin would name Loki his successor, when the time came, instead of Thor, as Thor was yet without a wife or an heir. Johann did not bother himself with such frivolous and trivial gossip. If all went his way, Odin would not be in any position to name a successor by the time the child was born. Johann would sit upon the throne by then.

What was more disconcerting to him was the news that the two Princes would be accompanying Lady Romanoff to Earth for an indefinite stay. One one hand, if they were away, that would make his _coup_ more likely to succeed. On the other, that left them as possible threats to his power in the future. They certainly would not sit by and let him take their home and cast their father down from his seat of power.

He was in a difficult position. He did not yet have the forces to take Asgard, but he needed to act soon. _**This will require careful planning and precise execution,**_ he thought as he walked down the stairs in front of the palace and out into the streets.

It was in the marketplace that he was approached by Amora.

"Good afternoon, Johann," she greeted casually.

Johann nodded his greeting. "How goes the day?" he inquired her, just as casually, as he ran a critical eye over a selection of fruits at one of the stands.

Amora plucked a piece of fruit that resembled a pear, but with darker skin, from the stand and gave the stall-keeper a coin before biting into it. She chewed slowly, then swallowed. "Fruitful."

Johann snorted at her pun and moved away from the stand with a respectful not to its keeper. Amora followed him. "That is good to hear, Amora," he said without looking at her as they moved among the crowds. "Any prospects worthy of note?"

Amora swallowed another bite of her fruit. "A few." Johann nodded again, which she took as her cue to continue. "I have another in mind, but it is risky."

Johann stopped and turned to her. "How risky?"

Amora met his eyes seriously and sighed. "Very."

Johann studied her for a moment, his brow furrowed. He considered the situation they were in and began to weigh the pros and cons of whether this was a risk worth taking. "Is this prospective ally of great importance?" he asked. Amora nodded. Johann closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. "Test the waters first, then, if conditions prove favorable, proceed. If not, return to me and we shall decide how to continue."

"Yes, Johann," she said, then began to turn away.

"I have faith in you, Amora." Johann's words stopped her mid step. "Do not disappoint me."

She glance up at his face, then nodded, walking away at a brisk and determined pace. "I won't."

Johann smirked lightly as he watched her leave. As soon as she was out of his sight he turned and continued on his way. He still had much work to do before the time to move was at hand.

**XXXX**

Amora moved through the halls of the palace, her face set in a determined expression, her jaw firmly clenched. The sound of her heeled boots on the stone floor echoed off the walls with every step she took.

She knew where her target would be, and she was mentally preparing herself for the task in front of her. A nervous ache crawled up her spine and she fought down a shiver. She would have to be very careful, she knew this, for failure would result death, not just for her, but for Johann as well. As he had said, this was a dangerous game they were playing.

She came out of the palace into the training fields of the palace guard. Only the best were chosen for this posting. They drew their ranks from the Einherjar, personally selected warriors, chosen by Odin himself for their skill and prowess in combat. They trained and fought every day, ever preparing for Ragnarök, when they would be called upon to fight alongside the All-Father at the end of time. They were the elite warriors of Asgard, and it was from their ranks that the palace guard was recruited. The rest remained in Valhalla, where they drank and fought to their heart's content.

It was here, in these fields, that some of the best fighters of their world came to train with the Einherjar. She scanned the fields, her eyes roving over the warriors that were present there. Freyr. Harokin, the captain of the Einherjar at the palace. Eilif and Baldric. Skurge, whom she nodded briefly to, and whom returned the gesture minutely. Finally, her eyes found her target.

Tyr stood by himself, cooling down after a vigorous training session. As the God of War, he stayed in top shape. Though he had yet to ever best his brother Thor in a fight, he was a close match.

Amora took a deep breath to steel herself, then set off toward the massively built man.

As was the common practice on Asgard, word of Tyr's altercation with Loki back on Earth, before the battle to retake Asgard from Thanos' forces, had spread rather quickly. The two had never been on friendly terms, but to openly quarrel was not a common occurence for the two foster siblings; they usually just avoided each other at all costs. Amora was also aware of the whispers that Loki may be crowned king after Odin stepped down from the throne, and surely Tyr had heard them as well. This was something she could use to her favor. It was because of this that she believed that he may be swayed to join Johann and herself in taking Asgard.

Tyr noticed her approach and frowned in her general direction. He was acquainted with Amora, but they had never really spoken to each other, except in passing. He was wondering what business the Enchantress could possibly have with him on this day.

Tyr inclined his head respectfully to her as she neared him. "Greetings, Enchantress. What brings you here this fine day?" Tyr asked cordially, running his good hand over his black hair. Amora's gaze was drawn to his other hand, the missing one, where only a cup-like piece of armor remained.

Tyr followed her gaze and cleared his throat. He had lost the hand when the Asgardians had chained the great wold Fenrir. After having broken every chain they used, the gods had turned to the Dwarves for help, and were gifted with a ribbon that was made stronger than any chain or rope in existence. Gleipnir, they called it. Forged from the roots of a mountain and the beard of a woman, it was unbreakable. Fenrir, sensing some deceit, agreed to be bound with the ribbon, but only if one of the gods was brave enough to place his or her hand in his mouth while the ribbon was tied. Tyr was the only one to accept the wolf's challenge. When Fenrir realised that he was now trapped, he bit down, taking Tyr's entire hand and eating it.

It had been an inconvenience at first, but Tyr, ever striving to be the best, learned to fight around his seeming disability.

Amora tore her gaze away from the missing appendage and looked Tyr in the eyes. "I was merely seeking a way to pass the time."

Tyr turned his dark eyes toward her. "I doubt that. So, why don't you tell me the real reason you are here." His voice was low, with a dangerous edge to it as he spoke.

Amora swallowed, but masked her fear well. "Have you heard the rumors?" she asked, dancing around her reason for being there.

Tyr snorted. "There are many rumors out there. You will have to be more specific than that."

Amora tilted her head. "The ones about Loki. They say he may be the next king of Asgard."

Tyr sneered. "I have heard the rumors, but that is all. Father has stated no such intention."

"And he tells you everything?" Amora asked, boldly.

Tyr glared at her, but said nothing. The unspoken answer was loud and clear. "What is you point?" he asked after a long moment of silence.

Amora took a deep breath. Dare she take the chance, or should she beat a tactical retreat? She decided to go for it. "My point is, that perhaps it is time for a change in leadership."

Tyr turned his head to her, his eyes smoldering. "I do not want the throne."

Amora, encouraged by the fact that he had not turned hostile at her suggestion, took a step forward. "That isn't what I said." He raised his brow in question. "You may not want the throne, but I come on behalf of someone who does. I am offering you a place in the new regime of Asgard. That, or you can fall with the rest of them."

Tyr took a step toward her, his hand reaching out to grasp the handle of the large battle-ax that was sitting nearby, leaned against a wooden dummy target. He hefted it up with his one hand and rested it against his shoulder with ease. "Are you threatening me, Amora?" He glared dangerously down at her as he approached her. "I am not my brothers, I do not take kindly to threats."

Amora let her magic manifest itself in her hands in the form of brightly glowing orbs. "I do not threaten, Tyr, I am merely stating the situation you are now in." The orbs pulsed. "You can either join us, or burn."

Tyr began to circle her, catching out of the corner of his eye that Skurge had stopped his own training and was watching them closely. "Treason is punishable by death, Enchantress. That _is_ what you are asking of me, is it not? Treason?" He came to a stop in front of her. "I am the best general in Asgard. You and your allies would stand little chance against me in a battle. But, I confess myself intrigued. You are right that things are not as they should be. Loki is a plague upon our great realm, and must be removed. He lacks honor and the blood of our people. It only the softness of my father's heart that has allowed him to remain when he should have been executed for his own treason. That softness of heart is unbefitting of a king of Asgard. We are warriors, not diplomats. The Nine Realms once stood in awe of our might, but now the mortals have forgotten us, and moved on. We have become nothing but children's stories and myths to them. We tore Jotunheim to the ground, yet now, the Frost Giants seek any way to destroy or humiliate us. Where is the fear that once lay in the hearts of every Jotun? We have grown weak." He spat the last word with disdain. "The battle on Earth, and here afterward showed that we still have that warrior spirit, we just need the right leader to bring it out of us." Amora listened to this tirade with a growing sense of ease. The anger and disapproval in Tyr's tone was enough to tell her all she needed to know. But Tyr was not done yet. "I have respected Thor for many years. But, he too has grown soft. I blame the mortals for this. He defends the traitor, Loki, and adheres to our father's ideals for peace. Peace can only be won through battle. You take it at the tip of a sword. I should report you for speaking of treason, but I will not. When the time comes, you may count me as an ally." With that, he stalked away, leaving a relieved Amora in his wake.

Skurge, who had been watching from a short distance away, came to stand by her side. "All is well, Amora?"

Amora nodded. "It is." She turned a smile on the tall half-giant. "Make sure he comes to the meeting tonight, would you?"

Skurge nodded at her, returning her smile. "As you wish."

Amora smiled again, then started off the way she had come, letting her hips sway just a little more than naturally as she walked. She knew that Skurge was enthralled with her, and so used that infatuation to her advantage. He had been the easiest to turn to their side. He was a mighty warrior, larger than most due to his mixed heritage of Jotun and Asgardian. His strength and loyalty to her would be of great use to Johann, this she was sure of.

**XXXX**

Loki nodded to the guards outside the Treasure Room as he entered. Ever since the Laufey incident, security of this area had been substantially increased. The numbers of guards had gone from four, two inside and two outside, to ten, two outside and eight inside, plus an upgraded version of the Destroyer.

He walked down the center of the room until he came to where the device was now kept. He looked down at it and frowned as he circled the stone pedestal that it rested on. His keen eyes roamed over every inch of it and his frown only deepened at what he was seeing.

He knew that he had seen this type of technology before, on Earth. It reminded him of the bombs that he and the others had used to bring down the flagships of the invading Chitauri fleet during the Second Battle for New York. Smooth silverish steel, the eerily pulsing blue light, the sense of power emanating from it. But this power was weaker to the senses than that of the bombs. He assumed this was because of the nature of the power. The bombs had been made for destruction, and thus exuded the aura of danger, this was more of a supressed aura. _**Fitting,**_ he thought, _**considering that it was used to suppress the power of Mjolnir.**_

After another short moment, he reached out and placed his hand over the device and let his own magic reach out and touch it. As soon as he did this, he could feel that magic being absorbed by the device, which then flared, the little blue lights brightening as new power was taken into it. Furrowing his brow, he withdrew his magic as well as his hand.

He ran a hand through his hair, then crossed his arms over his chest as he began to think. Every once in a while, he would cast a glance at the Tesseract, which now sat at the very end of the vault, where the Casket of Ancient Winters had once sat, dark and imposing, yet fascinating.

He knew that some of the items in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s possession had been taken from a group called HYDRA many years ago, and that those items were created using the power of the Tesseract. Others, based on HYDRA's designs, had been created using Lævateinn, which was linked to the Tesseract. But this power was different, if similar in design.

He placed his hand directly on the device, feeling it start to pull at his magic. He let it. At the same time, he poured more and more of his magic into it, causing it to glow brightly, but not as bright as Lævateinn or the Tesseract or even the bombs. He withdrew his magic with a scowl.

_**So, it isn't just the nature of the power that makes it less noticable. It is the power itself. It is weaker, weaker than my magic, and far weaker than the Tesseract. But even so, it draws its power from whatever it touches, thus making it powerful enough for it to suppress even Mjolnir, by using its own power against it. Clever...But, who supplied the original magic?**_ He sighed, then another thought entered his mind. _**I wonder...**_

He placed his hand on the object again and focused inward, feeling where it was drawing his magic from. Both his Asgardian and Jotun magic cores were being drained. He focused on the Asgardian and attempted to cut off the flow. As he did this, the tide of power flowing out from it slowed and then stopped altogether, but the Jotun magic was now being sapped at a greater rate. He released his hold on the Asgardian core and sealed off the Jotun core. The results were the same, though reversed.

His curiosity satisfied, he pulled his hand away. His mind drifted back to the question of who could have provided the magic to power this device originally.

He rubbed his chin in thought. There were very few magic-users in Asgard, but in the other worlds there were quite a few. This made it near impossible to point the finger with absolute assurance. On Asgard, he could think of very few with the proper control required to power such a device. Himself, the healers, his father and, lastly, Amora the Enchantress. He himself had not done this, and he knew that his father had definitely not done it; he had wanted peace with the Jotuns. The healers were likely not the culprits as they specialized in healing magics. That left Amora. While she certainly could do it, he could see no motive for her take such action. _**There's something here that I'm not seeing...**_

With a small tilt of his head, he pulled back all of his magic to his core, then reached out and picked up the device, turning it over and over in the light of the vault, his eyes scanning the surface for any distinguishing markings, a maker's mark, anything really. He found nothing. The surface of the device was smooth and virtually unflawed and undamaged. With a soft sigh, he returned the device to the pedestal, letting his magic flow through him once more as he let go of it.

With a final glance from the device to the Tesseract, he turned and strode back the way he had come. He acknowledged the guards, who all inclined their heads to him as he passed them by, and then started up the stairs to the two massive doors that stood as the entrance to the vault. With not a strain, he pulled them wide and stepped through them, turning on the spot to pull them back together before continuing on his way.

He found Thor and the others outside as he had expected to. This day, they were not sparring or anything that manner, instead, they were simply lounging about in the shade of the tree that he had been caged within for so long. With a smile, but without a word, he took his place among them.

Thor turned his eyes on his brother as he took his seat beside Natasha. "You were not long gone from our presence, brother. Finished with your tinkering already?"

Loki smirked. "Indeed. Though, not much tinkering was done, I must say. But, yes, Thor, I am finished, for now."

Natasha looked up at him from her place beside him, leaning against the base of the tree's trunk. "Did you find anything?" she asked.

Loki placed his arm around her shoulders and she, in turn, leaned against him. "Not as much as I had hoped," he admitted. "Only that the technology bears resemblance to the weapons that S.H.I.E.L.D. created with the Scepter and the one that were created with the Tesseract, and that it is designed to draw the magic from whatever it touches to power it, thus rendering whatever it touches as useless."

Fandral cocked his head in confusion. "What do you mean, is _draws_ the magic?"

Loki sighed and leaned forward. "I mean, that the magic in the item is there to sap more magic from the devices surroundings, more precisely, whatever it touches. By doing this, the power of the item is equal to or greater than that of what it is taking its power from." Seeing the confused looks on the faces of the others, he elaborated. "It uses the power of whatever it touches against it. For example, if it were to be attached to Mjolnir again, it would take the hammer's magic and use that to power itself, thus suppressing the magic and rendering Mjolnir as nothing more than a hammer with a half-length handle."

"So," Thor spoke, "that is how the Frost Giants were able to wield Mjolnir? Because that device was blocking its powers?"

Loki nodded. "Yes."

"Who could create such a thing?" Sif asked.

Natasha raised one of her eyebrows. "I could name a few. But all them are either on our side, or dead."

"Tony comes to mind," Thor commented.

Natasha nodded. "Or Ivan Vanko."

Thor frowned. "Who is Ivan Vanko?"

"He was the son of a Russian scientist that once worked with Tony's father. Ivan blamed Tony and his family for his own families problems. He's dead now though." She continued. "That whole situation ended at around the time you first were in New Mexico."

"Well," Loki said, "that's two off the list.. Any others?"

"Perhaps Norman Osborn," she answered. "Or Reid Richards. But, S.H.I.E.L.D. has tabs on both of them and neither have any knowledge that Asgard even exists. The only other person that I can think of at the moment would have been Johann Schmidt, head of HYDRA back during World War II, but he was killed while fighting Steve."

"Well," Loki sighed, "that leaves us where we were before: with virtually nothing." He stood up, Natasha doing the same. "All we can do now is wait for the next piece of the puzzle to reveal itself."

With that, he and Natasha set off from the group, heading back to the palace.

**XXXX**

Night had fallen across Asgard when the first knock came at Johann's door. He took a long slow drink from his cup of Asgardian wine, then set the empty cup down on the table. He stood deliberately and walked around the table he had been sitting at and made his way to the door. He opened the door to reveal Amora standing there in her usual revealing outfit, minus the armor. She smiled as he stepped aside to allow her entrance.

"The others will be on their way momentarily," she said. Johann nodded and closed them door.

"How many should I expect?" he asked as he made his way to his dining area and gathered drinking cups and wine.

"About six," Amora answered as she took her seat to the left of the head seat at the table.

Johann made no acknowledgement, but gathered seven cups. He walked back the table and set out the cups, six at the still-empty chairs and one in front of Amora. After this, he poured wine into his and Amora's cups, the deep red liquid glistening in the light of the room. Afterward, he placed the jug of wine in the center of the table.

"Six others," Johann spoke. "so few."

Amora sipped her wine. "They will be enough. Trust me."

Johann eyed her over his cup. "I do." He took a sip of his own wine, not taking his eyes off of his Lieutenant.

Following this, there was another knock at the door. Amora stood and opened the door, revealing four men, dressed in simple Asgardian armor. Johann recognized them as guards in from Odin's throne room. Greetings were passed around and wine was poured for the newcomers.

Silence reigned in the room as they all waited for the remaining two conspirators. The silence was filled with the sounds of feet shifting on the floor, cups being lifted and lowered and the occasional clearing of a throat or creak of a chair as one of those present shifted their weight.

After a few more minutes, there came two heavy knocks on the door. One of the guards, who was sitting closest to the door, stood and opened it. First entered a tall man with black hair shaved down to two strips going back across his head, and his face adorned with a long mustache. He stood a full head taller than all others in the room. Behind him came a man who made Johann raise his brows in surprise. He wore black, gold-lined armor, his hair was black and parted into two thick braids that fell down over his shoulders, and was missing his left hand.

"Prince Tyr," Johann greeted, standing from his seat. "This is an unexpected, but welcome, surprise." He spread his arms in a gesture to take a seat. "Welcome." Tyr nodded in return and took the chair at the far end of the table, opposite from Johann. "And, Skurge, welcome to you as well." Skurge, the taller of the two newcomers, took a seat next to Amora with a small smile in her direction. Johann frowned minutely, but smothered the expression with a smirk.

After both had taken their seats, Johann reclaimed his own chair and cleared his throat. "Now, gentlemen, and Lady," he began, gaining everyone's attention. "I trust you all know why we are here?"

Tyr grunted, reaching out to grasp the jug of wine from the center of the table. He took a small sniff of the contents before pouring some into his cup. He then took a sip, nodded and poured in more. After this, he took a larger sip. "You want us as accessories to treason," he said bluntly. He looked directly to Johann. "Is this not so?"

Johann smirked again. "It is indeed."

Tyr nodded. "So tell me, Johann, what makes you think you have more right to rule than my lord father?"

Johann considered this for a short moment, then spoke. All eyes were on him now. "Divine right to rule is a lie. Only the strong may rule the weak, and power has to be seized. I have the power to take the throne, that is all the right I need to rule, wouldn't you say?"

Tyr leaned forward. "Some would say. Others would see it as needless violence wrought by a man consumed by greed."

"And what would you say, Tyr Odinson?" Johann asked.

"I would say that the outcome of this will determine your right to rule." Tyr leaned back and took a sip of his wine. "As a son, my honor decrees that I side with my family, but my warrior's honor says that my family is the problem that weakens our once great people. An outsider calling himself my father's son has thrice brought us shame and grief, and still he is welcomed back with open arms. My father, once strong and just, has become soft and allowed the defiler to live. He has slain one of my brothers, murdered innocents and placed himself upon tiers that he is unworthy of, and still he is loved as son and brother."

Johann hid a smirk. "You speak of Prince Loki." It was a statement, not a question.

Tyr nodded, his eyes dark and dangerous. "The filth must be removed for Asgard to prosper once more. Honor demands it."

"Your conviction is refreshing, good Tyr," Johann said, though he himself held no such regard for concepts such as honor. He looked around. "And the rest of you," he eyed the remaining five men, "do you share these convictions?"

The four guards, exchanged glances, each attempting to conceal their own sense of fear. Johann's sharp eyes picked up on this immediately. He narrowed his eyes. Skurge and Tyr noticed their discomfort as well. "They will be of no trouble," Skurge assured. "I will make sure of that." He eyed the four men with an icy glare.

Finally, one of them managed to speak. "We are yours to command, my lord."

Johann held the man's gaze until the guard was forced to look away. "We shall see." He stood and looked over them, his hands placed upon the table's surface. "Over much time, I have developed a plan, one that will render those who would oppose us as next to nothing. In one fell swoop we shall wrench the reigns of this once-mighty realm from the hands of the weak and clutch it tight in our iron grasp."

"And, how do you plan to achieve this?" Skurge asked. "We are but eight, against the full might of the court."

Johann reached in his pocket and withdrew a pair of shackles. He had worked tirelessly over the days passed since he had first tested them, and now had near three dozen complete and ready for use. "With these."

Skurge appeared skeptical. "Forgive me, but I have my doubts that those little rings will be of much use to us at all in a fight."

Johann smirked in a condescending manner. "There will not be much of a fight, I assure you." He circled around the table to stand behind Skurge. "These 'little rings' will make sure of that." Skurge still appeared skeptical. "Would you prefer a demonstration of the power these rings possess?" Johann looked down at Skurge, who eyed the shackles with mild disdain. Johann smiled. "Very well then. Extend your arms."

Skurge did as he was requested. Johann clamped the first shackle around one of the bigger man's wrist. Everyone was watching the two of them with interest as Johann began to fasten the second shackle. There was an audible click as the cuff locked into place, then was followed by a choking gasp and cry as Skurge stood, his face set in an expression of panic and confusion. After a short moment, he crumbled to the floor, too weak to stand any longer with the rapid draining of his strength.

As soon as Skurge hit the floor, the others were on their feet in panic and alarm, with exception to Tyr and Amora. Amora knew all too well what Skurge was experiencing, but the warning that Johann had issued to her the day of that experience replayed in her head and she remained silent as she watched the proud warrior reduced to a whimpering heap on the floor with mild disgust and veiled pity. Tyr merely observed with interest.

Johann waved down the four guards, with a calm hand motion. "Calm yourselves, gentlemen. All is well." He knelt down beside Skurge and spoke softly to him. "What do you say now, Skurge? Do you still think these shackles useless?" A moan was all the answer he received. He frowned mockingly and leaned closer. "I didn't catch that. Could you repeat it for me?"

Skurge struggled to regain his voice. "...No..." he gasped out, his breath coming out in a slow series of weak rattles.

Johann narrowed his eyes. "No? No what?"

"...no...I do not...think them...useless," he uttered weakly.

Johann nodded. "Good." He reached out and tapped the deactivation sequence and removed the cuffs from the Executioner's wrists.

Skurge stood shakily, but soon regained his stance and flesh tone, which had started to go pale. Johann gave him a soft nudge in the direction of his chair and Skurge sat, glaring darkly at the table's surface.

Johann returned to the head of the table and placed the cuffs down on the table for all to see. He met each of their eyes individually. "This, gentlemen, is how we will bring Odin and his sons to their knees. In two days hence, we will strike at the heart of Asgard and the throne will be mine." He smirked and picked up his cup of wine, raising it before him in the manner of a toast. "Hail Hydra!"

The others picked up their cups and stood, though a bit uncertainly, and copied his example.

"Hail Hydra!"

**XXXX**

**A/N: Another chapter down. I hope it was enjoyable for you all. I would like to humbly ask you all to REVIEW, please. It would mean a lot and help me to write if I knew your thoughts on the story and the chapters. So, please REVIEW, but do not flame. Thank You.**

**I added another Trailer to YouTube, you can watch it if you wish. No pressure or anything...**

**Well, let me know what you think, and Thank you for your support.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**


	6. Insurrection

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Welcome to chapter six. The plot picks up in this chapter, as the first five were just to set the stage, as it were. Alright, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Now, read on, and review!**

**Resistance**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter VI: Insurrection**

**'A sheep has left the fold, hoofbeats go a-trotting, trotting up to Heaven bold. At the gates a-knocking, knocking. Sheep in wolfish clothes, holy jaws are dropping. Up in Heaven's hold, plant my hooves, my hooks, my books. Once upon a time, Heaven was a tower, tower, tethered in its pride. Cast us grapes as sour, sour. Thought the ink was dried, but Hellish gardens flowered, ivy to be climbed. Spread my filth, my wings, my weeds, my weeds. My fairest wheels are turning.'**

**-Grace For Sale by Terrance Zdunich, from: The Devil's Carnival. **

The bag dropped heavily to the bed, bouncing lightly before coming to a rest atop the dark blankets there. In this bag were the necessities that Natasha felt that she may need while away from Asgard. She was not sure how long their trip to Midgard may last, so she wanted to go prepared.

Loki did not bother with packing anything, though he had wrapped the device they had found in cloth and placed it in the bag so that Tony and Bruce could have a look at it, as he could simply conjure up anything that he might need with but the flick of a finger. He stood by the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for Natasha to be finished. He didn't have all that long to wait.

She lifted the bag from the bed and slung the strap over her shoulder. "Alright, let's go."

Loki nodded and opened the door, gesturing that she should go ahead of him. She rolled her eyes but exited the room just the same. Loki followed her out, pulling the door closed behind him, and the two set off down the hall to the staircase that led down from the royal family's chambers to the throne room.

They walked in comfortable silence, though the air around them was ripe with anticipation for the coming journey. Natasha was greatly looking forward to seeing their friends once more and eager to be off, and, though he did not say it aloud, Loki was of the same mind as her. He would admit that he found Midgard infinitely more interesting than Asgard, which he had known for so long that it had long-lost its novelty and wonder, and though Earth was not as grand, nor as clean, as Asgard, it was just as beautiful, in its way. He knew every nook and cranny of Asgard, but Earth was a vast new frontier that he had yet to explore. He hoped to one day have the opportunity to do so, with Natasha at his side.

They came to the ground floor and Loki led the way through the door that led to the throne room, where Thor and their parents were waiting for them, having wished to see them and Thor off on their trip.

Thor and Odin were conversing lightly when Loki and Natasha entered the room. They halted their words when the sound of Loki and Natasha's footfalls reached their ears.

"Brother," Thor greeted, "I was beginning to think that you had lost your way."

Loki snorted. "Unlikely. Natasha saw fit to pack a few of her things for the journey."

Natasha shrugged. "You never know what may happen. Best to be prepared in case things don't go as planned."

Thor chuckled. "You act as if we are heading off to war rather than paying a visit to dear friends."

Natasha shrugged again. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

Frigga came over to them from where she had been standing beside Odin's throne. She Natasha a motherly hug, which the red-haired woman returned, somewhat awkwardly on her part. The two seemed to converse quietly for a short moment, Frigga lowered her arms from around Natasha with a kind smile, then came to Loki and took him into her arms as well. "Be careful," she whispered to him.

Loki sighed. "I will, mother."

Frigga pulled away and took a few steps back before turning to Thor and hugging him as well. Frigga released Thor and stood back a few paces, smiling.

Odin stood from his throne and descended the couple of steps to their level. He stood before them and gazed at them all in turn. "Safe travels to you, my sons. And to you, Lady Romanoff." They all nodded their gratitude for his well-wishes.

The main doors of the throne room opened, drawing the attention of all those present. Thor, Loki and Natasha turned to see who had entered. Their eyes quickly landed on those advancing toward them.

Sif and the Warriors Three came to a stop just short of their position. "We came to see you off," Sif told them. Loki raised a brow at them and Sif rolled her eyes. "What? Did you think we would let you all go without a farewell?"

Loki smirked. "I was hoping for that outcome, yes." He kept his voice light to let them know that he was but jesting.

Fandral chuckled and Sif rolled her eyes again as she moved forward to bid goodbye to Natasha. Thor clapped the Warriors Three on the shoulders one by one as they exchanged words of parting. Loki watched quietly as his brother and beloved were embraced by their friends.

It was a small surprise when Sif turned to him and smiled. "You take care of yourself, Loki," she told him.

Loki blinked, then inclined his head. "I shall."

Fandral came over to him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, and cheer up a bit, eh? If you aren't careful, you'll end up as grim as Hogun!"

Hogun, who was standing just to the left of Fandral, turned in head toward the roguish warrior with a scowl upon his face.

Loki only chuckled as he grasped the blonde warriors hand, then turned to the ever-grim Hogun and held out his hand to the dark-haired warrior. Hogun silently grasped the offered hand nodded to the Trickster.

Volstagg pushed his way forward and shook Loki's hand heartily with both of his own. "Have a splendid trip, my friends. I eagerly await your return!"

"Um, Volstagg, we have not departed yet," Loki pointed out to the robust, food-loving warrior.

"I know," he assured. He let go of Loki's hand and turned away, then stopped, seeming to have had something come to mind. He turned back. "When you return, could you perhaps bring back some of that delicious Midgardian food with you?"

Loki was saved from answering by Fandral. "Think with something other than your stomach for once, Volstagg!"

The sound of the hidden door to royal chambers opening caused Loki to turn his head in that direction. Coming through the door was Tyr, followed by Vidar and Hermod. Loki gazed at them with narrowed eyes. Their arrival was unexpected. The others noticed the newcomers and turned to the greet them. "Brothers! What brings you here?"

_**What **_**are**_** they doing here? It is not as if they really care for our comings and goings,**_ Loki thought.

Vidar addressed what was going through Loki's mind, almost as if he knew exactly what the Trickster was thinking. "Tyr suggested that we all come to see you off." He cast a glance at his dark-haired brother, then turned his eyes back to Thor. "You are our brother, after all."

Thor grinned and clasped hands with his younger siblings. "Of course."

Feeling the presence of eyes upon him, Loki turned his head to find Tyr gazing his way with a strange look in the dark depths of his eyes. Loki frowned and met Tyr's gaze, silently searching those depths in an attempt to find the meaning behind it. Tyr and he had never been on friendly terms, nor had they been on particularly aggressive terms. They had been at odds many times though. Now, there was resentment and harmful intent in his foster-brother's eyes.

"Why do you look at me so, brother?" The Trickster intoned quietly, so as not to draw attention to his words.

Tyr's lip curled in a suppressed snarl. "You are not my brother." He spoke just as quietly as Loki had.

Before Loki could retort, the main doors of the hall burst open once more. Everyone turned to see who else had entered.

Marching down the expanse of the room was Johann, who was dressed in a strange black suit with a red emblem on the arms, Amora and Skurge. Without a word, they walked up to where the group was standing, in front of the throne. Natasha moved closer to Loki, having stated before that she was not comfortable around Johann.

"It is fortunate that we caught you before you departed," Johann said, gesturing toward them. "It would have been an inconvenience to have to hunt you all down." He cast his gaze over them and frowned. He raised his finger in front of him and appeared to be counting to himself and he looked at them all. After he finished, he smirked and clapped his hands. "Good. It seems that everyone is here. That will speed things along."

"What are you talking about?" Odin asked, his hand restlessly gripping Gungnir.

"I believe no explanation will be needed, All-Father." He nodded his head and made a motion with his hand. "I'm afraid time is short, so, let's move this along, shall we?"

The sound of metal shackles clicking shut filled the air, followed by the sound of Odin exclaiming in surprise as Gungnir slipped from his grasp and fell clattering to the floor. Odin himself collapsed to his knees soon after. This was followed not a second later by the same sound coming from Vidar and Hermod as they too fell prey to the unseen guards that had approached from behind them. Sif and the Warriors Three went for their weapons but were struck down by a large bolt of energy from Amora, who then clapped them in irons as well. They did not rise again to rejoin the fight.

Loki turned, just in time to push himself and Natasha away as Tyr advanced on them.

A grunt and the thud of someone hitting the floor was heard as Thor struck Skurge away from his with a mighty blow from his fist.

Frigga reached out to grasp Gungnir from where it had fallen and took up a stance over the fallen king of Asgard, who was struggling to stand. Johann and Amora looked to each other and Johann nodded his head once. Amora turned to face the queen, and advanced. The women glared at each other and Frigga lunged, thrusting Gungnir out in front of her. Amora sidestepped the spear and leaped forward, striking the queen down with a magically enhanced backhand. She then withdrew a pair of shackles from a pouch on her belt and clasped them on the older woman's wrists.

Loki cast a glance at Natasha, not daring to take his gaze away from Tyr for too long, lest he give the bigger man an opening to strike him down as had been done with the others. He slowly backed away, but he knew that they could only go so far, the wall behind them would see to that soon enough. Thor backed up beside him now, having moved to their side after batting Skurge to the ground. The half-Jotun Asgardian was now back on his feet and closing the circle around them with Tyr and the four guards. Loki summoned Lævateinn to his hand as Mjolnir appeared in Thor's hand. Natasha slung her bag off her shoulder and delved a hand into the contents. Her hand emerged a moment later with a pistol gripped tightly in its clutches. She let her bag drop to rest at her feet and she held her gun with both hands to provide better control.

Tyr eyed the gun and sneered. "Your pathetic toy will do you no good here."

Natasha took aim at the center of his head and gave him a cold, steely glare. "Care to test that theory?" He finger squeezed the trigger gently to show that she was not bluffing.

Tyr returned the glare, but Johann pushed passed them to face the three remaining foes. "This need not result in needless bloodshed. Lay down your weapons and you may yet live to see your child born into this world." He looked at Natasha's still-flat stomach for emphasis.

Natasha gripped her gun tighter and trained it on Johann instead. Loki growled. "You dare threaten the life of my child?!"

Without waiting for an answer, Thor and Loki struck forth, Lævateinn slicing the air where Johann's throat had been a moment before. Johann stepped back to avoid the blow and was replaced by one of the guards, who wielded a spear.

Thor and Skurge traded blows, the air pierced by the ring of steel upon steel as Skurge's great axe struck against the indestructible Mjolnir, the sound resounding and resonating, and the blows jarring the two combatants' bones with every strike.

The guard swung his spear at Loki's face. The trickster went low and snaked under the attack to drive his sceptre blade into the guard's stomach. The blade struck home and the guard let out a cry as his gut was penetrated with deadly ease, the blade piercing through the armor and flesh as though through water.

Gunshots rang out through the hall in rapid succession as Natasha fired upon another of the guards that had advanced on her. Her bullets struck his face and neck. Though they were less effective against their kind, the guard slumped to the ground, a Midgardian bullet lodged in his brain, having tore through the eye-socket and into the soft tissue and then to the brain.

Tyr watched the man go down with a smirk, and Natasha ejected the clip, reaching to retrieve a new one from her bag. The two remaining guards took advantage of this and moved in on her, their spears poised to thrust into her chest.

Loki caught the movement from the corner of his eye and he wrenched the sceptre from the dying guard's body. He extended it to spear form as he lunged to intercept the charging guards.

He swung Lævateinn, taking one in the face with the blade, then spun, bringing the blunt end to bear on the second. The first fell dead, a large gash across his face, the second fell onto his back with a grunt.

Loki did not wait for him to rise, and struck down with the blunt end of Lævateinn, the spear's base driving down into the helmed head of the guard. He struck repeatedly, the armor buckling and cracking under the power of his blows. Soon, the guard stopped moving, his skull finally smashed from the bludgeoning force.

Tyr looked down at the dead men with contempt and pulled his large ax from its holster on his back.

Loki jerked his head at Natasha, gesturing for her to get behind him. She grabbed her bag, which contain more clips among the other items, and did as he wished. Once she was out of reach of Tyr's weapon, Loki took a stance and faced the dark-haired warrior before him.

Before battle could commence, Thor parried Skurge's ax, then kicked the bigger man to the ground. A bolt of energy struck out and he barely managed to bring Mjolnir up to deflect the attack. Skurge regained his feet and set to rejoin the assault on the Thunderer. Thor growled. "Brother! This battle is done! We must go!"

Loki did not look over to his brother, never taking his eyes off of Tyr. "Then go!" He spoke to Natasha next. "You go with him."

Natasha looked at him with wide eyes. "What about you?"

Loki smiled, though there was no humor in it. He flicked his eyes to the side, where she was, then returned them to Tyr. He could not let Natasha or their newly discovered child come to harm, and knew that if she stayed here, she would undoubtedly suffer. he made his decision quickly and with little hesitation. "I'll hold them off." As he said this, the tip of the spear began to glow like bright blue fire. "GO!" he shouted as he swung the spear wide, the blast of energy shooting forth from the spearhead and exploding at the feet of Amora and Skurge as they advanced on Thor. The two were thrown from their feet. In the same moment, Tyr lashed out with his ax. Loki managed to roll with his swing and dodged the blow. He raised the spear to catch the follow-up strike from Tyr, catching the axe-head on the long shaft of the spear.

Thor ran over, using the opening that Loki had provided, and took Natasha by the arm and scooping up her bag from the ground at her feet. "Come! We must go!"

Natasha fought against him, but it was fruitless. "We can't leave Loki!"

Thor grimaced as he pulled her along. "He has made up his mind, and given us time to escape. We must seize this opportunity! Come. Loki can handle himself."

Thor pushed the doors to the throne room open and the two ran through it, Natasha and Thor both casting one last glance over their shoulders at Loki as he fought with Tyr.

Skurge and Amora regained their feet as Thor and Natasha exited. "AFTER THEM!" Johann roared. "They must not escape!"

Amora and Skurge did not hesitate, both running to follow the two.

Johann snarled and turned to where Loki and Tyr were now still, their weapons locked together as both tried to overpower the other. Johann slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a pair of shackles from within.

Tyr's eyes flicked to Johann, causing Loki to look as well. The warrior took this opportunity to rip Lævateinn from Loki's grip and strike him in the chest with the handle of his ax.

Johann caught the stumbling Trickster and struck him hard in the back with his knee. Loki grunted and arched his back in pain. Johann then grabbed the Trickster's arm and wrenched it back, clasping on one shackle as he did so. He brought his other hand down in a fist to Loki's chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. He then shoved the Prince of Asgard to his knees and clasped the second shackle on.

Loki fought to regain his breath as his magic was sapped from him. He thought fast as he took a deep breath, and in a desperate move, sought out the source of his Jotun magic and blocked it of from the rest of his body, holding it just out of reach from the shackles' power as he had done with the other device they had found. His Asgardian magic was a bit drained from the fight, but his Jotun magic was untapped.

With his magic sapped, his strength went next and he slumped to the side, though he tried desperately to stay upright. He was teetered on the edge of falling when Johann's booted foot was placed on his shoulder and he was pushed to the ground. His vision blurred and darkened at the edges, but he fought against it and it cleared somewhat.

Next thing he noticed was that he was being drug across the floor by someone. He was then dropped to rest beside the others that had been shackled. The echo of boots against floor sounded as someone moved up to his father's throne, then the rustle of leather as they seated themselves upon it. "Gather the palace guard. Take these scum to the dungeons, and their weapons to the treasury," Johann said, from the direction of the throne. It must be him who now sat upon it.

"You intend to let them live?" Tyr asked.

"For now," Johann answered. "I want them alive to see the day that the people of Asgard and Midgard kneel at my feet and the flame of their hope rests under my heel. Then, on that day, I will snuff that flame, and stomp them out."

**XXXX**

Natasha ran for all she was worth, Thor just ahead of her as they sprinted through the streets of Asgard. From behind, she heard the angry shout of the man known as Skurge as he charged after them, his long stride carrying him swiftly over the cobbled street. They had already covered much ground and had neared the gates that separated the city from the rainbow bridge. Natasha was feeling the wear of running so far so fast, and it took all of her will not to slow.

The air crackled as a bolt of magic shot past her head and she increased her pace, trying to widen the distance between herself and their pursuers. She moved closer to the side of the street, closer to the buildings that lined it, planning to use them as some cover, but had to duck and stumble as another bolt of energy smashed into the wall she was running next to, causing debris to explode out around her. After regaining her footing, she turned and fired two shots from her gun while continuing to run, an action that she had already attempted since fleeing the palace with Thor, always to no avail.

Thor stopped and turned back, drawing his arm back and hurling Mjolnir at the two Asgardians that chased after them. Amora dove to the side to avoid the hammer and Skurge dropped to the ground.

Thor called Mjolnir back to his hand and prepared for another throw. Natasha ran over to his side as he drew his arm back a second time. "Thor! What are you doing?!"

Thor launched his hammer at Amora as she prepared to fire a blast of magic at them, forcing her to take cover behind a house. "I will not run like a coward while my people need me," he stated.

Natasha looked behind her, she could see the bridge about a hundred yards further down the road, and at the end, escape. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to catch her breath. She lifted her gun up and ejected the clip, checking to see how many shots she had left. three bullets remained, along with one in the chamber. She cursed and shoved the clip back into her gun. "We are almost to the Bifrost. We can make it if we just go!"

Thor frowned as Mjolnir returned to his grasp once more. A bolt of blue energy shot out from where Amora had taken cover and Thor raised Mjolnir to deflect the attack. At the same time, Skurge advanced toward them, also using the buildings for cover. Natasha took aim and fired off two more rounds, both hit harmlessly against the Asgardian's armor. She cursed again.

Thor looked down at her. "Your weapon is of little use here."

Natasha snarled as she unloaded the rest of her clip at Skurge, who was now crouched behind the corner of a house. She dug into the pack that was still slung over Thor's shoulder, and withdrew a new clip. She shoved it into the gun and chambered the first round. "All the more reason for us to get out of here. I'm of no use to you in this fight, and you are at a disadvantage against the two of them. You saw what they did to your father and brothers! And Sif! And...Loki." She spoke the last name with a strained voice. She was angry that she had been forced to leave him behind. She pushed those thoughts aside for later and returned to the situation at hand. "If they could take down your father and brother, do you think you stand a better chance?!"

Thor gripped Mjolnir tighter as he thought over what Natasha was saying. He hated to admit it, but she was right. "Very well." He called lightning down with his hammer and unleashed the hail of electricity on the general area of Skurge and Amora's hiding places. The smell of ozone filled the air as Thor nodded to Natasha and the two turned to run. "Let's go."

Natasha's limbs were growing heavy as they came to the bridge and it took all of her willpower not to stop and collapse to the ground. Her legs began to weaken and her movements slowed. Thor, noticing this, stopped and grabbed the back of her shirt, twirling Mjolnir in the other hand. A second later, they were flying through the air toward the Bifrost.

The golden dome came into focus in a blur of colors as Thor landed them in front of the Bifrost, where Heimdall stood guard. Natasha wobbled on her feet, but managed to stay upright. "Why didn't you do that earlier?" she demanded.

"It had slipped my mind during our escape," Thor told her as he moved toward the stoic guardian of the Bifrost. "Good Heimdall, we need your assistance."

Heimdall nodded. "I know. Your father and brothers have fallen to the usurper. I have been expecting you."

Thor frowned. "Did you know of this attack beforehand?"

Heimdall's eyes seemed to fall. "I did not. I became aware that something was amiss when Johann and the Enchantress vanished from my view as they neared the palace. It would seem that Amora has learned to cloak herself and others from my gaze."

Thor cursed and tightened his grip on Mjolnir's handle.

Natasha looked to Heimdall with wide, pleading eyes. "And Loki? Has he...?"

Heimdall nodded solemnly. "He has been taken by the traitors." The guardian tilted his head. "The Executioner and the Enchantress approach. Come." He turned and marched into the golden dome and, after exchanging glances, Thor and Natasha followed.

They hurried to the position in front of the portal as Heimdall placed his sword within the centerpiece, activating the interworld gateway. "My Prince, Lady Natasha, farewell. When the time comes, I shall be waiting here. You will always find the Bifrost open to you."

"Thank you, Heimdall," Thor said, sincerely.

In the next moment, the world around them blurred as they were pulled into the portal and then their surroundings changed to a plethora of colors.

**XXXX**

Heimdall nodded resolutely as Natasha and Thor disappeared into the portal. He withdrew his sword from the activation mechanism and stepped down to the floor. He then took up his position in front of the Bifrost. His hands held his sword handle firmly as his gaze sought out Skurge and Amora. He found them moving toward him from across the bridge. His mouth set into a straight, stern line.

A short moment later, the two Asgardians came into view without his all-sight and he watched their approach with his keen orange eyes.

Finally, they reached his position and slowed to a stop. "Where are they, Heimdall?" Amora demanded.

Heimdall's expression remained blank. "Where are who?" he asked.

Amora growled. "You know of whom I speak. Do not play with me!" Her hands crackled with energy as small sparks of energy danced around them.

Heimdall was unfazed. "I see all, but even I cannot read minds."

Skurge lifted his ax and made to advance on Heimdall. "Perhaps the my blade will see your tongue loosened."

Amora held up her hand to halt Skurge, who heeled, though reluctantly. "Your loyalty is commendable, Heimdall, but it is misplaced. Odin has fallen and Johann now stands as King of Asgard. As per your oath, you are now in his service."

Heimdall blinked, but gave no outward signs that this had any effect on him. "Be that as it may, you are not he."

Amora's frown deepened. "We are here at his bidding. Now, where are Thor and Agent Romanoff?"

Heimdall blinked once more. "They are gone. Departed from this realm, beyond your reach."

Amora clenched her fist and cursed under her breath. She then turned to face Skurge. "Bring him." She then set off back the way she had come. "Don't forget his sword."

Skurge, without warning, struck out with his ax. Heimdall, having read the move from the set of Skurge's feet, raised his sword and parried to the blow. Using the momentum from this, Heimdall countered with a slash of his own, only for it to be caught on the handle of Skurge's weapon.

Heimdall glared into the half-Jotun's eyes as the two were forced to a stand-still, their weapons locked together, both using all of their strength to attempt to overpower the other. It seemed that they were near-evenly matched.

Heimdall bared his teeth as he brought all of his strength to bear on the deadlock, and with a grunt, he was able to press advantage and force Skurge to lose his footing and stumble back, his arms going wide so as to regain his balance.

Heimdall capitalized on the opening and struck Skurge's weapon from his hand, then swept his feet from under him with a single, powerful swing of his sword. He now towered over the fallen warrior, swordtip pointed down toward Skurge's throat. He lifted and prepared to bring the blade slicing back down into the flesh of the traitor. Unfortunately, Heimdall had made one mistake, and that was focusing all of his efforts on Skurge, while letting Amora slip from his mind. The scent of ozone drifted on the breeze and Heimdall's eyes widened. Before he could react, twin bolts of magical energy sprang forth from the Enchantress's fingertips and struck the Bifrost's guardian square in the chest. Heimdall's body seized and he felt his sword slip from his grasp and his collapsed to his knees under the onslaught of Amora's magic.

By this time, Skurge had regained his feet. Amora released her magic and, without taking her eyes off of Heimdall, barked her orders at Skurge. "Cuff him and bring him!"

Skurge growled, but did as he was bid, clamping a pair of cuffs on Heimdall's wrists. He then lifted his up and slung him over his shoulder line a sack of grain. He paused to retrieve his fallen weapon, then set off to follow Amora back to the palace, where they would have to report their failure to Johann.

**XXXX**

Johann stood in the throne room, the guards all gathered before him, and Odin and the other defeated foes laying at his feet. Many of the guards were silent, but here and there Johann could hear whispers, murmurs of confusion, hisses of anger, and, in a couple of cases, interest.

Johann, with Tyr standing behind and to the side of him, raised his hand for attention and silence. A hush fell through the room. Johann lowered his hand and ran his eyes over the guards. "I am sure that you are all wondering why I have called you here." There were nods and murmurs of affirmation. "The answer is a simple one, though it may prove to be a bit much for some of you to understand." He took a breath. "The simple answer is this: I have called you here to inform you that, as of this moment, Asgard has seen a shift in power. The All-Father has fallen to me and my men," he gestured to where Odin lay, too weak to move, "as have his sons. I stand before you now as you king." He stopped now to let those words sink in.

It started first as a soft chorus of shock, but soon rose to a louder, more raucous uproar. It seemed that they were divided. Some held to their oaths to serve the king of Asgard, whoever that may be, while others held their loyalty to Odin above their duty. Finally, one among them shouted a question out to Johann himself. "Why should we serve you?!"

Johann cast his gaze out over the guards, seeking the one who had spoken. A guard, seeming to be of middle-age for an Asgardian, stepped forward. Johann smirked. "What choice do you have, Harokin? I am your king, and your oaths bind you to me."

The man, Harokin, nodded. "Aye. An oath freely and willingly given. But not to you!" There were shouts of agreement from those that were loyal to Odin.

Johann looked down at the man, who was the Captain of the Palace Guard, and stepped down from the dias where the throne stood. Tyr watched him go, his eyes taking in all present, on watch for hostility against his king. He held no real personal loyalty to Johann, but he would not let him come to harm. He was a part of this now, and he knew he had to commit to it, or face the same fate as his father and brothers. He may be able to defeat Johann in single combat, but with Skurge and Amora to contend with as well, he knew he would lose.

Johann approached the outspoken Captain of the Guard and stood directly in front of him. "Your loyalty is admirable, however misplaced. And, as for your oath, I care not for it." He paused as the man met his eyes boldly. Johann decided in a change of tactics. "Do you have a family?"

The Captain was taken aback, but then nodded. "I do. A wife and three children."

Johann nodded, the corners of his lips twitching up. "Think of them. Their smiling faces. It is a welcome thought, yes?" Harokin nodded. "Now, tell me, would you rather your family live as servants, or as kings?" Harokin now wore a look of confusion as Johann walked back up the stairs to stand before them. "Asgard's days of weakness are over. With Odin off the throne, we shall reassert ourselves as the mighty race we once were. The Nine Worlds once trembled at our power, and so they shall again. We have cut the cancer out and cast it aside, and emerged stronger than before! Once again we shall stand as Titans amongst men, and the humans shall once more worship us as the gods we are!" Nods from those that upheld their oaths were seen, with a few from those that were still undecided. Johann turned his eyes back to the guard at the head of the group. "Midgard will ours, and on that day, those who stood beside me shall be rewarded. I am your king, not your master. You are free to choose your own fates." He then sat himself down on the throne.

Murmurs spread again, and the guard that had spoken out now looked conflicted. It seemed that the rest were waiting on him to make his choice before making theirs. After a long moment of thought, Harokin lowered himself to one knee, his spear placed on the floor beside him, and bowed his head. After exchanging glances, one by one the rest of the guards followed suit. Harokin spoke, though his voice held a trace of sadness. "We are yours to command, My King."

**XXXX**

Amora and Skurge entered the throne room as several guards were dragging the unconscious forms of Odin, Frigga, Vidar, Hermod, Sif, Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg and the still conscious Loki out of the room to the dungeons.

Johann looked at them as they came to a stop in front of him. His eyes found Heimdall, draped across Skurge's shoulder and frowned. "What happened?" he demanded.

Amora sighed. "He fought. We had to subdue him."

Johann's eyes narrowed. "Thor and Agent Romanoff?"

Amora bit her lip. "Escaped."

Johann tapped his fingers against the arm of the throne. "I am disappointed, Amora."

Amora flinched and bowed her head. "Forgive me, Johann."

Johann frowned down at her. "You address me so informally," he noted.

Amora dared not meet his eyes. "I have always done so."

Johann nodded and stood, stepping down to her level. He reached out and used his finger to raise her head so that her eyes met his. He searched those depths and found fear and regret within them. Holding her gaze still, he spoke. "Do not disappoint me again."

Amora nodded, relief flooding her being. "I will not."

Johann smirked, then returned to his throne. "Take him to the dungeon with the others. Tell the guards to inform me the minute he regains consciousness. I would have answers."

Skurge gave a grunt and set off after the guards that they had seen leaving earlier. Amora looked up at Johann. "What would you have me do, Johann?"

Johann gestured to the space beside the throne. "Take your place at my side."

Amora nodded, a small smiled gracing her features. She walked up the few steps and then positioned herself on his left-hand side. This was her place, and she accepted it without hesitation. She would prove herself worthy, even if it killed her.

**XXXX**

**A/N: Another chapter down. A bit on the short side, actually the shortest so far, but an important chapter nonetheless. So, what do you think? I know that Loki was imprisoned in the previous story, but that was a short ordeal. This time it serves a larger purpose and drives a section of the plot.**

**NOTE: I have noticed a distinct lack of reviews for this story. What's up with that? Is it not good? Now, I'm not a review Nazi. I don't withhold a chapter until I get a certain amount of reviews. That is just stupid and defeats the purpose of writing for entertainment and artistic/creative purposes. But, I do like to know how I am doing and whether you like it or not. So, please, review. If you must be critical, then so be it, but do not flame. Now, thank you to: Sebastian Wonder, JPElles, IgnitingFireworks and the Guest, Alice. Thank you all for your continued support. It means a lot, even if I don't always find the time to reply to you all.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**


	7. Bittersweet Reunion

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Welcome to the new chapter, my friends! Thank you to all who took the time to review, you guys are the best readers a writer could ask for. I raise my mead horn to you all! This chapter picks up right after Heimdall sends Thor and Natasha to Earth with the Bifrost. Sorry for this one getting posted a bit late. St. Patty's day, mead, beer, good friends...I have no regrets, but I feel I should apologize anyway.**

**RESISTANCE**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter VII: Bittersweet Reunion**

**'I'm giving up the ghost of love, and a shadow is cast on devotion. She is the one that I adore, Queen of my silent suffocation. Break this this bittersweet spell on me, lost in the arms of destiny. Bittersweet.'**

**- Bittersweet by Apocalyptica feat. Ville Valo and Lauri Yl****ö****nen.**

The clouds swirled and random flashes of multi-colored lights accompanied by several bolts of lightning filled the sky. The clouds then descended to the earth in the form of a great funnel, the wind whipping the trees, and other plant-life in the general vicinity of the landing site, about, causing some of the leaves and branches to tear away from their places. The funnel hit the ground with a thunderous sound, kicking up dust and other debris. As quickly as it had come down, the cloud dissipated and the dust began to settle. In the center of the touch down site stood two figures, one tall and muscular with long blonde hair swaying in the soft breeze and a hammer in his hand, the other was more on the petite side, with soft feminine curves and wavy red hair that came down to her shoulders.

Natasha looked around as the dust cleared and sighed, seeing that they were outside of the city, with Manhattan Island not far away, but not a short walking distance. She looked back up the way that they had come, her heart heavy as she thought of her beloved Loki, now a prisoner to Johann and his usurpers. How she longer to return and find him, to free him and run. But, she knew that such an attempt would be suicide. That, and she doubted that Heimdall would heed her call even if she did try to go back. It wasn't just Loki that she was worried for, but all of the royal family, the family that she was quickly becoming part of. She placed a hand over her abdomen and smiled sadly.

Shaking herself out of the dark cloud that had gathered within her thoughts, she looked up at her current companion, who was taking in their surroundings as well. She could see the pain in his own eyes and knew that he too was worried for his family. "S.H.I.E.L.D. will have detected our arrival and will most likely send someone to investigate. We could wait here. Or, we can go on to the city." She spoke mainly to break the silence, to help dispel the heaviness permeating the air.

Thor was looking toward the city, his eyes scanning it, as if searching for something. Finally he nodded. "Undoubtedly, Fury will send someone. But, I, for one, do not fancy waiting around until they arrive. Asgard is in dire need of assistance, and we must not tarry. Come," he held out his arm to her as he began to twirl Mjolnir by the leather cord attached to it. Natasha sighed, nodded and stepped over to him and he securely gripped her once more by the back of her shirt.

The next moment, Natasha's stomach dropped and her heart was in her throat as Thor flew into the air and they were speeding on their way toward the city. As they drew nearer, and Natasha became used to the sensation of this form of flight, it became clear what Thor had been searching for, and was now aiming them toward. Stark Tower loomed ever nearer as they flew at speeds to rival that of the fastest car. She was sure that Thor could reach even faster speeds, but was holding back so as to not hurt her, or the child that was not growing inside her. His brother's child, his own blood.

They slowed as they came to the Tower, Thor brought them to a stop and lowered them to the outer balcony of Stark's 'living room'. Natasha gratefully placed her feet back on solid ground and grumbled when she swayed on her feet. That had been happening more and more lately, and she didn't like it, not one bit. On top of that she was feeling slightly tired. That had been happening more that she liked as well. She figured that she knew the reason why, but she pushed that thought aside, as all it did was cause her mind to venture back to Loki; but, she reasoned that it could also be because of all the running that she had recently done.

They entered the lounge suite and looked around, finding it empty. Natasha walked over to one of the couches and sank down onto it with a small sound of relief, her arm resting on the side, her hand coming up to her brow and covering her eyes. Thor put Mjolnir down on the floor and laid Natasha's bag down at her feet, then took a seat as well, his elbows coming to rest on his knees and his hands folded under his chin.

Silence reigned over the room as the two sat, their minds replaying all that had happened so far that day. Both felt a sense of failure withing their breasts, their hearts heavy with the resounding guilt that was already gnawing at them. For Thor, it was as though he had taken the easy way out, the cowards way, while his brother had stayed and risked his own life so that they may escape. But the fact that Loki had practically demanded that they run did little to ease the shame that Thor felt. He felt that, had he and Loki worked together, they could have overcome Johann, Tyr, Skurge and Amora, his pride said that they could have, but in the back of his mind, he had the niggling thought that if he had stayed, Loki would not have been the only one to be captured, he and Natasha would be right there with him. And that, he knew, was why Loki had told them to run.

Natasha knew this as well, but, like Thor, it did little to make her feel better. However, unlike Thor, she had no illusions that she would have been of much use had she stayed behind. Her weapons were woefully ineffective against the denser skin of the Asgardians. She had been trained with melee weapons, but had had little occasion to use them. Perhaps it was time to hone that skill once more, so as to stand a better chance next time. She knew that this was why Loki had told her to flee, to protect her, and their child, to keep them from harm, but she couldn't help but feeling horrible for having abandoned him like that.

So caught up in their thoughts were they, that they did not notice when the door to the room opened and one Anthony Stark entered the room, humming a tune to himself. So quiet were they, that he did not notice them right away either. He made his way toward the bar and grabbed a bottle off of the shelf behind it, taking down a glass as well. He set the glass down on the counter and started to open the bottle.

It was when he glanced up at the rest of the room that he noticed the two figures sitting there. He slowly put the lid back on the bottle set it aside. Contrary to what some would say, Tony was quite observant. He easily spied the fatigue and sadness on Natasha's face, and the defeated slant of Thor's shoulders; he could not see Thor's face as he was turned away from him. Tact, however, was not one of Tony's strong points. "Don't you guys ever use the front door?"

Natasha jolted back to the present at the sound of Tony's voice, giving a small start of surprise. This was the first clue for Tony that something was seriously wrong. For Natasha, a master spy trained to see and hear all around her, to not hear him enter the room meant that either she was slipping, which he doubted, or that something big must have happened to distract her in such a way.

Thor stood and turned to face their friend, he tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Do you?" he attempted to joke back.

Tony shook his head. "Sometimes." He made his way out from behind the bar and over to them. Natasha stood to greet him as he shook Thor's hand. He gave Natasha a quick hug, expecting her to push him off, but was surprised when she returned it, albeit briefly. "It's good to see you again, Tony," she told him. Afterward, she sat back down.

Thor nodded. "Aye. A friendly face is most welcome at this moment."

Tony's confusion and curiosity increased and he looked between the two of them. "What's happened? Where's Loki?" At the mention of Loki, the two visitors seemed to deflate a bit. Tony gestured for Thor to sit back down and lowered himself into a seat as well. "Alright, I'm guessing that Loki isn't here because something is wrong on Asgard. So, anyone want to tell me what it is?"

It was Thor that answered. "Asgard has fallen, and Loki, along with several others, my father included, have been taken prisoner. We were barely able to escape, thanks to my brother."

Tony resisted asking a sarcastic question about how many times Asgard had been invaded and taken. "Who was it? How many?"

"Eight," Thor said, sounding bitter.

Tony raised his brow. "Eight?" He was shocked and even more confused.

Thor nodded. "They were led by Johann. Do you remember him?" Tony nodded, picturing the man in his head. He didn't seem like the type to do such a thing, but he had been wrong before. Obadiah Stane came to mind. "He conspired with Amora and my brother, Tyr, to overthrow my father."

Tony took this in and nodded. "How did they do it? Last time I checked, your dad was no pushover."

Thor shook his head. "I do not pretend to understand it. They used some strange technology, in the form of shackles, to defeat them."

Hearing this, Natasha reached for her bag, where she knew that Loki had put the device that he and Thor had found on Jotunheim. She dug it out and handed the wrapped-up piece of tech over to Tony without a word.

Tony took the small bundle of cloth from her hand and unwrapped it. He made to pick it up, but hesitated. "This won't hurt me will it?"

Natasha shook her head. "It shouldn't. Loki said that is absorbs magic, so you should be safe."

Tony nodded and picked up the device, turning it over in his fingers. His brows came together as he scrutinized the device, taking in its details. "Why does this remind of something out of Phase 2 or the HYDRA cache that we have?"

Natasha sighed. "Loki thought the same thing when he examined it. At first we were unsure who had created it, but, now, I believe that that is obvious. I don't know how Johann did it, but the results were devastating."

Tony nodded. "Well, I'll inform Fury of this developement, and go into my security footage and get a picture of Johann for circulation. Why don't you too take your old rooms here? You look like you could use some rest."

Natasha opened her mouth to refuse, but Thor beat her to it as he stood. "Thank you, my friend, but, for now, I would prefer not to sit around and wait while my home is in danger."

Natasha stood as well, and she was thankful when she did not feel light-headed. "I agree."

Tony raised his brow at her, but said nothing. He then sighed. "Alright. Well, first thing's first, why don't you take your bag to your room, then meet us in the security station?"

Natasha looked down at her bag of clothes and other essentials and nodded her agreement. "Okay."

Tony nodded and then gestured for Thor to follow him as the three of them exited the room, Tony and Thor going one way and Natasha going the opposite with her bag slung over her shoulder.

**XXXX**

Natasha dropped the bag down on the bed in the room that had once belonged to Loki during the Asgardians' stay at Stark Tower when Thanos had driven them out of Asgard. Her own room was further down the hall, but she felt that, for all intents and purposes, this room was as much hers as the other one was. But, that room did not have the memories that this one had. It didn't have that air of familiarity and comfort that this one had.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she could almost smell Loki in this room. It was a clean, almost leather-like scent. It was almost as if her were standing right in front of her. When she opened her eyes, she sighed, finding that the room was still empty, save for herself.

She shook her head and scolded herself for being so weak. She then turned on her heel and walked back out of the room. As she closed the door, she couldn't resist one glance back. _**Foolish**_, she thought, upon finding nothing there.

She knew it was a fool's hope that she was feeling. A hope that Loki had somehow escaped and would magically appear in front of her as if nothing had happened. He had done it before, but, she figured that if those shackles were anything like the device that Loki had found, her Trickster had no magic to spare.

Her hand tightened into a fist and her nails dug into her palm. The pain and anger were a welcome distraction from her depressed thoughts. Anger she could deal with. She could hone it and mold it to work for her, and she could channel it into something productive, like helping Thor and the others develope a plan to rescue Loki and the other prisoners and kill that bastard Johann.

That was another thing that angered her. She had always felt a bit uncomfortable around Johann. There was something about him that made her nervous, something in the eyes and the way her moved, almost like a predator that could pounce at any minute. _**Or,**_ she thought without humor, _**an insane psychopath just waiting to stab you in the back.**_

How she had not seen this coming, she didn't know. She should have seen it coming. She was a master spy, trained since childhood to observe and calculate, and kill when the situation called for it. She was also a master of deception, and could spot a lie a mile away. So, how had she not seen that Johann and the others were up to something?

The answer was a simple one, but one that made her angry with herself. This simple truth was that she didn't see it because she hadn't wanted to. After so many years of espionage and deception and behind-the-scenes warfare, she had been so tired of it all that she let herself become complacent. That was a mistake that she would quickly and happily remedy.

She sighed to herself. She knew that she shouldn't blame herself, as it was beyond her control, that it could have been anyone in the position that Johann now filled. And that, other than the unease she felt near him, there was no real reason to suspect anything. Not to say that she wasn't still angry with herself, because she was, but she had to assure herself that it wasn't her fault, else risk yet another distraction.

She came to a stop outside the door to the security station, not even having realized that her feet had carried her there by memory. She shook her head. _**That's exactly what I was talking about. Distractions.**_

With her thoughts shoved aside, she composed herself and entered the room. Upon her entrance, Tony, Thor and Steve looked up from the screens that they were gathered around. She tilted her head in askance of the obvious new arrival, the Captain having not previously been present, as far as she knew.

"Steve just showed up a few minutes ago," Tony informed her, turning back to the computer.

Steve nodded to her and shook her hand by way of greeting. "I came over to ask Stark to go help us check out that funnel-cloud disturbance, but when I saw Thor here, we called that off. Tony informed me of what happened. I'm sorry."

Natasha nodded, but said nothing. "How's the search for Johann coming?" she asked Tony.

Tony shrugged and leaned back in his seat as his eyes scanned the footage in front of him. "Not as quickly as I would like. JARVIS is scanning all of the security tapes and we are trying to match the description to the images, but, there are hundreds of hours of footage for each camera. So, there are thousands of hours here to go through." He shrugged again. "We're doing them all at the same time."

"Wait!" Thor said, making Tony jump in his seat. Thor leaned around the billionaire genius and pointed to one of the screens. "There. That is him."

Tony nodded. "JARVIS, freeze screen five and zoom in." The AI did as requested. "Enhance the resolution." Slowly the pixellated image cleared and revealed Johann's face to them. "Gotcha, you son of a bitch."

Natasha glared at the image as the other three studied it. Steve frowned deeply as he looked at it. Out of them all, he had never actually laid eyes on Johann until now, having been unconscious when the man had helped heal him. Now his eyes were filled with disbelief. "That's impossible," he whisper, though it was heard by them all.

Thor looked over at Steve. "What is impossible?"

Steve shook his head as if he was having trouble wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. "This," he answered Thor, pointing to the man on the screen. "He's dead. I watched him die."

Natasha and Tony looked at him in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about, Cap?"

Steve blinked and clenched his jaw. "That," he pointed at the screen again, "is Johann Schmidt, head of HYDRA."

"You're sure?" Natasha demanded.

Steve nodded firmly. "I'd recognize that face anywhere. I don't think I'll ever forget it." He looked back at the screen. "Pull up the old .S.H.I.E.L.D. files on Schmidt."

Tony gave the command to JARVIS and the AI retrieved the requested files and displayed them on the screen. "This is all that I could find, sir," JARVIS informed them.

"Thanks," Tony replied. "Enlarge the image."

A picture of the Red Skull now filled the screen. "That is how he looked the last time I saw him. He wore a mask of his current face over that. How did he survive? He was killed by the Tesseract."

Thor frowned at the image. "This," he gesture to the picture, "is what he looked like when he first appeared on Asgard. We assumed that it was some form of burn damage as his clothes were somewhat scorched as well. Our healers fixed him up and regrew all of his skin anew. I don't think the Tesseract killed him, Steve. I think it pulled him through a...what was the word that Jane used?...a wyrm-hole?"

Natasha shook her head. "A wormhole."

Tony pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. "Well, that certainly explains a lot. Primarily, how he was able to make _this_ damned thing." He gestured to the small piece of tech that he had set down on the desk in front of him. "So, the old, angry Nazi is back, huh? Then, it's only a matter of time before he comes here."

Thor frowned. "What make you say that? He now has rule over Asgard, why would he come here?"

Tony shrugged and started to explain. "From what I understand about this guy, from what I can read here in this file, is that he is a power-hungry megalomaniac. One realm isn't going to be enough for this guy. Plus, he more than likely knows that you two escaped to here. He won't risk you bringing an army back to Asgard and taking him down. He'll come here to finish the job. And," he looked at Steve. "There's also his score with the Captain here to settle."

Steve seemed skeptical. "He'd need an army of substantial size in order to take Earth. Even Thanos failed in that respect."

Tony nodded. "True, Asgard's army, along with us, we were able to fight them off. But, who now holds control of Asgard's army?"

Everyone's faces fell as Tony's point sunk in. Natasha sighed and spoke up. "Without hard information, the most we can do is speculate. Unfortunately, that means that we won't know what Johann will do until, or if, he does it."

Tony nodded. "Too true." He shook his head, chuckling.

"What is funny?" Thor asked, a hard edge to his voice.

"It just seems a bit ironic that the damned original head of HYDRA would return now," Tony told them.

"Why's that?" Natasha inquired.

It was Steve who answered. "Because S.H.I.E.L.D. has been at war with HYDRA since we returned from Asgard. They tried to capitalize on the aftermath of our battle with Thanos by attacking the Vault and breaking out Baron von Strucker. They succeeded. They've been recruiting and regrouping while we were busy chasing down those that escaped during their attack."

Natasha looked shocked. "Who else escaped?"

"Only a few," Tony said. "Justin Hammer escaped with von Strucker." The distaste in Tony's voice was obvious. "And Bullseye managed to slip away as well, but he didn't go with HYDRA. We had Clint go after him, but he lost him somewhere in Dublin, Ireland. That was two weeks ago. He could be anywhere now."

Thor frowned. "Why did you not call on us to help you?"

Tony shrugged. "Fury wanted to, but I talked him out of it. It didn't feel right to drag you all into another fight after you had just retaken your home." He looked at them both. "So much for that now."

Steve nodded, then looked to Stark, who was technically his superior. "We should contact Fury and inform him of the situation."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, about that..." he didn't say anything else, simply stood and left the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went.

After a moment, Natasha sank down into the chair that Tony had vacated. She let out a huff and ran her hands through her silky red hair, then clasping them together in front of her as she waited for Tony to return. Growing tired of the silence in the room, she turned to Steve. "Has anything else happened that we need to be caught up on?"

Steve frowned as he thought about her question. "Not much. Only Coulson is away on a mission right now."

Natasha raised a brow at that. "Oh? What does Fury have him doing?"

Steve shrugged. "I'm not quite sure. All I know is that he is in Afghanistan, posing as an Army Ranger. For what purpose, I don't know. We hear from him every few days or so."

Natasha nodded, but did not reply. Instead, she turned her gaze down to her boots, taking in the texture of the dark leather and studying the various blemishes upon their surface. It was a dull, mindless activity that allowed her mind to wander. However, where it wandered was not a place that she wanted it to go at this moment. She would have time to worry later, when she was alone and away from the eyes of others. For now, she had to be strong and assume the mask known to the world as the Black Widow. It was a fractured mask, but a mask nonetheless. It would serve its purpose.

After what felt like hours, though it was only a few minutes, Tony returned. Natasha looked up at him and asked, "Well?" Her voice was steady and firm.

Tony noted her change of demeanor with a raised brow, but he made no comment on it. "Fury has demanded that we bring you two to the base for debriefing, but I convinced him to let it wait until first thing in the morning. You look like you need some shut-eye." He said this last sentence to Natasha.

She frowned at him, but nodded. She stood from her seat and left the room without a word.

**XXXX**

The three men exchanged glances, each confused about Natasha's sudden mood change. Tony shook his head and muttered something about women being impossible to understand before leaving the room as well.

Steve and Thor followed him out, Steve nodding farewell to them and heading toward the garage, and Thor fell in step beside the genius billionaire. "We should not be waiting to speak to Fury. Every moment we do nothing is another moment closer to when Johann will make his next move. We need to be ready."

Tony nodded in a distracted manner. "Yeah, I hear ya...Hey, what's up with Natasha? She's acting a bit...weird."

Thor frowned at the change of subject, but, though he tried to hide it, he could hear the worry in Tony's voice as he had asked his question. Thor pursed his lips, thinking of how best to answer. "I am not sure if it is my place to speak of this matter."

Tony turned so that he was walking backwards so that he could look at Thor directly. "Come on, Point Break, quit being diplomatic. I know that you know that I know that you know the juicy details, so spill."

Thor appeared confused for a moment, but he soon shook his head. "I am sorry, my friend. It is not my place to tell of these details. If you wish to know, you must ask her yourself."

Tony frowned and spun back so that he was walking forward once more. "And risk her temper? No, thank you." He sighed. "Fine, be a wet blanket. I'll just have to wait until she's in a good mood."

Thor nodded. "I wish you the best of luck in your quest, Metal Man."

Tony raised his finger, shaking it at Thor in a reprimanding manner. "_Iron_, Thor. It's _Iron_ _Man_. Which, if you think about it, is a tad inaccurate as the suit is made out of a gold-titanium alloy..."

Thor, having no idea what Tony was talking about, merely let his friend talk, not really paying any attention to what was being said. His mind was more focused on what was to come. He silently swore that he would do whatever it took to rescue his family and his home.

The two walked on, one in silent contemplation, the other rambling on about various details of the composition of his high-tech armor and it's functions.

**XXXX**

Johann was sitting on his throne, listening as a guard gave a report that some disgruntled citizens had become hostile while the guard were on patrol. Word of the successful _coup_ had spread like wildfire, and many were unhappy with the change of leadership. Apparently, Freyr, and several others, had attacked the guards during their patrol. two guards and one of the attackers were killed, but Freyr and the rest were now locked away in the dungeons.

It would seem that, while they were unhappy, most were unwilling to attempt what Freyr and his group had done, after seeing the effects of the shackles, which all guards now carried two pairs of.

After dismissing the guard, another stepped up and bowed to him. "My King, Heimdall has awakened," the guard informed him.

Johann nodded to him and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He then turned to Tyr, who stood at his side. "Summon Amora and Skurge, then wait for me here."

Tyr inclined his head to the man who was now king of Asgard. Johann stood from his throne and made his way out of the room.

**XXXX**

Heimdall sat in the cell that the guards had locked him in. His back rested against the wall. He had awoken laying on his face on the floor, He had crawled his way to his current position with what little strength he could muster. After becoming aware of his surroundings, he became aware that he could no use his gift of all-sight. It was a startling and panic-inducing realization. He almost felt blind, though this wasn't quite accurate as he could still see, just not in the way he was used to. It was as if someone had placed a lid on the universe, then covered it with a blanket. Everything was dull, the colors muted, the sounds less clear.

His hands had pried at the silver, chainless shackles around his wrists, but it was a futile effort and he soon accepted that brute force was not going to get him out of his current predicament. He would have to be smart.

He had watched the guards pacing up and down the aisle just outside the cells. They went in pairs, side by side, one watching one side, the other watching the opposite. When they had made their next round, the guard had stopped and looked into the darkness of his cell, seeing that he was now awake. He had spoken a few quick words with his partner, then turned back the way he had come, disappearing out of Heimdall's sight.

Now, the sound of footsteps reached his ears and he lifted his head, his orange eyes seeking out the source of the sound, instinctively trying to view beyond the walls, directly to the object he sought. But, he was struck with despair as his power did not respond to him and his vision did not go any further than the walls around him. He sighed and closed his eyes as he listened to the sound of the footsteps growing louder as they drew closer. Never in his long life had he ever felt so helpless.

His eyes lifted upward as the footsteps came to a stop in front of his cell. Summoning what strength he could, he glared at the man standing just outside door to his cell, the smirking face clearly visible through the barred window on the solid metal door.

The grating sound of metal scraping against metal and stone filled the room as the door opened and the man stepped inside. He looked down on the weakened form of the Bifrost's guardian as if he were some pathetic creature that deserved to be put out of its misery. It caused a flare of anger to rise in Heimdall's chest. Unfortunately, it was not enough to renew his strength.

Heimdall began to pull himself to his feet, and it was only then that he became aware that he was shaking. His body strained with the effort to rise to his feet, and he was soon forced to abandon the endeavor altogether as his arms began to give out.

He slumped back against the wall, his breathing heavy, and glared up at the man who now called himself King.

"Heimdall, it is painful to see you like this," Johann stated, his voice carrying a sense of sadness. He shook his head slowly from side to side. "It did not have to be this way, you know."

Heimdall remained silent, and continued to glare at Johann.

The former Nazi came forward and knelt in front of the defeated warrior. "Tell me, good Heimdall, why did you defy me? You are sworn to serve the King of Asgard, and therefore, me. Correct?"

Heimdall sighed and mustered up the strength to speak. "Yes."

Johann nodded. "Yes. That would mean that you broke your oath, and betrayed your king. You are not only an oathbreaker, but a traitor as well."

Heimdall shook his head, an idea forming in his mind. "No."

Johann looked surprised. "No? Come now, my friend, you must realize that what I speak is the truth, No?"

Heimdall shook his head again. "No." His voice was as firm as he could manage under the current circumstances. Johann raised his brow in a manner that said he wanted Heimdall to explain his meaning. "I..did not...betray...I...was merely defending...myself."

Johann tilted his head. "Oh?"

"Amora...and Skurge...did not like...the answers I gave...them...They attacked." Heimdall could feel his voice growing weaker with every word that passed his lips.

Johann was studying him, his eyes looking for hints of deception. Heimdall knew that he would find none, given that he was not lying, just not telling the whole truth. "Is that so?" A weak nod from Heimdall answered this question. "I assume that you wish to be released." Another nod. "Tell me, why should I let you go? What reason would I have for going through with such an action?"

Heimdall knew that he had only one reason he could give. "The Bifrost."

Johann smirked. "I can easily find a new guardian. And, as for operating it, well, others can do that as well."

Heimdall shook his head. "No. None...know it's workings...as I do...You need my gifts."

Johann nodded slowly, as though he were considering what Heimdall was saying. "It is true, that you know more of the Bifrost than most, you have guarded it for many, many years." Johann sighed. "You may be right. Your all-sight allows you to operate the bridge with unrivaled skill and accuracy." He seemed to be debating with himself, though it was barely noticable as he remained outwardly calm. He stood back to his full height. "Very well."

Johann turned around and exited the way that he had come. A short moment later, a guard entered the cell and began removing the cuffs from Heimdall's wrists. As soon as the second shackle came open, Heimdall breathed a sigh of relief as a pressure that he had not noticed before lifted and he could breathe easier. His vision returned to normal, a bit blurry at first, but steadily clearing as he rose slowly and shakily to his feet. He could feel his strength returning already. Asgardian boasted a great constitution, high endurance levels and rapid recuperation that bordered on unnatural. But, it had always been so. While serious wounds still took a bit longer to heal fully, the exhaustion-like effects of the shackles took an hour or so to fully disappear.

As it was, Heimdall was able to stand and walk upright out of the cell. Upon exiting, he was presented with his sword by another guard and allowed to leave. As he made his way back to the Bifrost, he cast his gaze across the universe, to Earth, seeking out Thor and Natasha. He released a small sigh of relief upon finding them safe, and in the company of allies.

Now he had to find a way to help them.

**XXXX**

Johann stepped back into the throne room, where Tyr, Amora and Skurge were now waiting. Wasting no time, he clapped his hands to draw their attention to him and began to speak. "Amora, if you would create a table for us, we can begin."

Amora nodded and, with a wave of her hand, used her magic to make a simple wooden table appear between herself and the others and Johann. Thinking ahead, she also used her magic to summon up maps of both Asgard and Earth.

Johann nodded his thanks to her and spread a map of Earth across the table. "Before we even think of making a move on Earth, we will need a base of operations, as well as allies. And weapons."

"Where would we find those?" Skurge asked.

Johann ran his finger over the map, and stopped over a bit of land labeled 'New York', on the north-eastern coast of the United States of America. "S.H.I.E.L.D.," he stated simply.

Amora spoke up. "Given that Thor and Natasha have no doubt informed them of what has occured here, I doubt that they would be willing to lend us aid."

Johann raised his eyes to hers in a manner that clearly suggested that she was missing the point of his words. "Who said anything about them 'lending' us anything?" He straightened up. "No, my dear Enchantress, we will _take _what we need from S.H.I.E.L.D., preferably without their knowledge." He looked from one Asgardian to the next. "Remember, they have many weapons hidden away in those bunkers of their's. We need only...liberate them. As for a base, I am sure there are a couple of old HYDRA bases that they have not found yet. We can use one of those."

"And allies?" Tyr questioned, looking at the map, as if it would reveal all to him, given enough time; given Tyr's military prowess, it just may do so.

Johann smiled. "The same place." At all of the confused expressions that greeted this statement, he continued to explain. "I have no doubt that S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps watch over people of...special interest across the globe. All we need to do is search their archives until we come across something, or someone, we can use."

"Seems simple enough," Amora said.

Johann shook his head. "Nothing that sound simple, ever is. I will go to Earth myself and seek out what we need."

"Are you sure that is a good idea?" Amora asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Johann nodded. "This mission is of vital importance. On Earth, they have a saying: If you want it done right, do it yourself. Of all here, I trust myself the most, and if I fail, it is on me, not you." The way he said it suggested that he was doing this as a way to keep the others out of harms way, but the reality was that he didn't really trust any of them to do the job right, though perhaps there was some form of caring involved in this decision, if only for Amora, whom had been his closest friend and companion for his time on Asgard.

Amora nodded, signalling that she understood what he was saying. "I will accompany you then," she told him.

"No," Johann countered firmly. His next words were softer, more gentle. "No, Amora. I need someone I trust to stay here and keep everything in order while I am gone. That will be your job."

Amora tried to protest, but Johann shook his head. She fell silent with a small nod.

Johann looked to the others. "Tyr, you will come with me. If you are to lead this campaign, you need to learn as much as you can about your battlefields." Tyr nodded and began rolling up the map of Earth for later use. "Skurge, you will remain here with Amora, keep her safe and keep the city and palace guard in line." Skurge nodded. Johann caught Amora's eyes, silently telling her to watch the big man carefully. He still didn't trust Skurge after the little incident during their first meeting, but he knew, it was not hard to tell, that the half-Jotun had a soft spot for the Enchantress. he would use that to his advantage for as long as he could.

Skurge nodded, casting a not-so-subtle glance at Amora, as though looking for her approval. Johann frowned distastfully at the sight, but said nothing of it. Instead he turned to Tyr. "We shall depart in three hours time. Prepare whatever you think you will need, then meet me at the Bifrost." Tyr nodded, saluted with his fist across his chest, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Johann watched him go, then started to walk toward his throne. "Amora, a word, please." Amora started toward him, with Skurge trailing behind her. Johann noticed this and turned hard eyes on the bigger man. "Alone."

Skurge stopped and looked as if he were going to argue, but seemed to think better of it. He then saluted and left the room, with one last glance back at Amora.

After he had gone, Amora approached Johann, who was standing in front of his throne. He reached out and placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer so as to speak in more hushed tone. "While I am gone, I would have you do something else for me."

Amora met his eyes curiously, a bit distracted by how close she was standing to Johann. "Anything," she said.

Johann smiled at her answer. "I need you to keep an eye on Heimdall for me. I have let him return to the Bifrost, for obvious reasons, but he is far too intelligent and cunning to leave unattended."

Amora nodded, understanding what Johann meant. She had once been somewhat involved with Heimdall and knew that he was far more intelligent than what he let on to others, but that was a long time ago, and she wasn't sure how his mind worked anymore. But, she did not wish to disappoint Johann again. "I will order Skurge to stand guard at the Bifrost, and report to me if Heimdall does anything suspicious."

Johann nodded. "Very good. But, that brings me to another problem. Be careful around the Executioner. I do not trust him, nor his motives."

Amora's eyes widened. "You think he will try to betray us?"

Johann shook his head. "No. But, I have reason to doubt his loyalty to _me_." Amora seemed to finally understand what Johann was talking about. "Be careful."

She nodded twice, a bit less resolutely than she would have liked. "I will. Do not worry."

Johann smiled and released her, stepping behind the throne. He then gestured for her to take the seat. Amora nervously stepped forward and then turned, then slowly lowered herself onto the throne. Johann placed his hand on her shoulders and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "This is your place while I am away. Take care of it for me."

Amora nodded in a distracted manner, her mind clouding as she felt Johann's warm breath on her neck. Then his hands and breath were gone and his footsteps echoed through the hall as he departed, leaving her alone and somewhat wanting. She steadied herself and took a deep breath, clearing her head as she settled back into the throne.

**XXXX**

**A/N: Well, that is that. Let me know what you think. REVIEW! But, do not flame. I apologize for the lack of Loki in this chapter. He will return for a bit next chapter, though he may be absent from a few other chapters along the way as there are going to be more characters in this story than the previous, but NO OCs, do not worry, all that appear are either in the movies or comics.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**


	8. Infiltration

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Welcome, welcome, welcome, one and all to the new chapter of Resistance. I would like to extend my gratitude and appreciation to all who took the time out of their busy day to review the previous chapter. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Before we begin, there are few important things to discuss. First, there is a new character in this chapter, he is NOT an OC, he is in the comics. Now, without further ado, on with the story. Enjoy!**

**RESISTANCE**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter VIII: Infiltration**

**'We must be swift, integrating with man. Instating the vision of the Master Plan. We'll placate the humans in need. Their form we have taken, their tongue we can speak. Plotting and planning, total secrecy. We'll infiltrate and take the lead. Misery for the rest of time, A world they created for their vicious crimes. This is the start of what is meant to be. Infiltrate, assimilate, fulfill our destiny.'**

**- Infiltrate and Assimilate by Iced Earth.**

Torches lined the walls of the hall, the orange light bouncing and reflecting off the smooth stone walls. Though the hall and connecting room were filled with warm, pleasant light, it did little to dispel the sense of despair and fear that permeated the air within these walls. The room was silent, save for the occasional sound of shuffling or chain-like rattles. These were seldom accompanied by any other sound, save for the rare moan of grief as one of the many prisoners attempted to forcefully free themselves from the constraints of the their shackles. None were successful.

The Dungeon was designed in a similar manner to the Treasure Room. A long stretch of walkway, flanked on either side my numerous alcoves that recessed deep into the walls of the room. These alcoves were blocked off from the rest of the room by thick Dwarven Iron doors with barred windows at eye-level so that the guards may peer within during the duration of their rounds. The insides of these cells were dark and barren, save for a simple chamber pot and a thin bedroll for the prisoners to rest upon, though rest was rare and rarely restful within these walls.

Within one of these alcoves, locked tight behind thick iron doors, wrists bound with stainless steel, magic enhanced shackles, resided the only prisoner who had yet to attempt escape via the oft-tried method of brute strength. For this prisoner, his mind and mastery of magic were the greatest weapons at his disposal. All hand-to-hand combat was carefully planned and based more on reaction than action, though he would not shy from making the first move when it suited him or his purpose. It was one of these moments that had landed him in his current place of residence, though to call it that was a stretch of the imagination. He had no illusions of where he was and knew it for what it was: a prison; and he was the prisoner, a captive of a willing nature. Though to say that he wished to be there would be another wild stretch of the imagination and nowhere near the truth of the matter.

His calm, yet determined eyes were closed at the moment, all of his attention focused inward, all of his concentration set on containing his Jotun magic from the parasitic shackles around his wrist. They sapped away at him like leeches, draining his life-force to near nil, like the troublesome worms sucked away at the life-blood of their unfortunate host, though at a much higher rate that of the common leech.

So focused was Loki, that he almost failed to detect the approach of a visitor, their footfalls heavier and more deliberate than that of the guards that sometimes patrolled past his cell. During the short time their, he had been able to sort each of the sounds in the area, categorize them, then file them away. Now, anything new, or that deviated from what he had already detected, caused his ears to come alert and hone in on the disturbance.

By the sound of the footfalls, he could easily determine that the individual to whom they belonged was of significant size and build, and was wearing armor. The clinking of the metal was a bit more resonating, suggesting that it was thicker and of higher quality that what the guards wore, so that ruled them out. Beyond that, it was impossible to tell any details, unless he had access to Heimdall's All-sight. But, alas, he did not have such a gift, and the man himself had departed from his own cell near the entrance of the room over an hour and a half ago by his reckoning. No, he did not know who now approached his cell, nor did he pretend to know why.

While listening to the approach, he noticed his control slipping and turned his attention back inward. He kept his eyes closed, taking slow, deep, steady breaths as he fought to keep himself under control so as to not slip up and let his magic escape, only to be sucked dry by those damned cuffs around his wrists.

The sound of the door of his cell opening barely registered in his occupied mind, and his eyes remained closed as whomever had come calling stepped into his dark little cell. Securing his hold on his magic, Loki slowly opened his eyes, just in time to see a large booted foot slam into his chest and send him sprawling on his back.

The sudden assault was enough to make him lose his control on keeping his magic stored within him, the cuffs immediately starting to drain it, lapping it up like a pack of wolfhounds after a long run. He ground his teeth and set to retracting his magic, trying his best to ignore the pain as his midsection erupted with pain as the boot came down onto his ribcage with devastating force. The breath was forced from his lungs, but still he retained his desperate hold on what power remained within him.

A growl was heard from the figure above him, his attacker growing angry by the lack of response from the Trickster. Loki's face snapped to the side as the next kick caught him across the jaw and mouth, splitting his lip upon impact. The sight of blood spurred his assailant on and more blows rained down upon him. With every strike, Loki's hold on his magic grew weaker and he was finding it harder and harder to ignore the pain now spreading through his body.

Pain lanced through Loki's head and he cried out as the visitor took a handful of his hair and pulled him upward. Loki's body instinctively followed, trying to lessen the pain at his scalp. A second later, a large, armored fist smashed into his mouth, then again, and again. Blood now flowed freely down Loki's face from his nose mouth and a small laceration above his eye.

His attacker then dropped to his knees beside the heavily breathing Prince and, still gripping him by the hair, adjusted his grip and brutally smashed Loki's head backward into the stone floor. Once, twice, then a third time.

Loki's eyes were growing heavy and his vision blurred and darkened at the edges. He struggled to stay conscious and still retain the hold on his Jotun magic, but as he focused on staying awake, he could feel that magic slipping away. He turned his attention to the magic and the edges of his vision darkened even further. He tried to shake his head to clear the fatigue and lethargy, knowing that if he lost consciousness, any chance of escape was lost, as he would be unable to retain the willpower to hold his Jotun magic from the leech-like qualities of the shackles.

Just when he thought that he was going to lose to the darkness encroaching on his mind, a sharp voice cut through the fog that had filled his head. The next thing he knew, he was dropped to the floor by his attacker, whose name had just been called out by the newest arrival and he was somewhat alert again; enough so that he was able to cut off the outflow of his magic without getting dizzy.

"Tyr!" Johann barked, frowning at the sight before him. "What do you think you are doing?"

Tyr looked up at the new King of Asgard and stood, letting Loki's fall lifeless to the floor. "Punishing one who has escaped justice thus far," he answered.

Johann looked past the large warrior at the bloodied form on the floor. He returned his gaze to Tyr and shook his head. "No, General." He looked at Loki again with something akin to pity in his eyes. "He is defeated, and humiliated without his magic. That is enough."

Tyr looked at Loki with contempt and disgust. He then reluctantly nodded. Before leaving, he turned and spit upon Loki, then marched away and out of the dungeon. Johan watched him go, then turned back to the downed Prince. He shook his head again, then closed the door to the cell, casting Loki's form into shadow. Then he too marched away.

In his cell, Loki was gasping for breath, trying to breath steadily through the pain that pulsed through his entire upper body. He suspected that he may have a broken rib, or two, and perhaps a few cracked or bruised as well. He also suspected that he had suffered a concussion. That, added on to the ribs and the bruises and split lips, it was nothing that wouldn't heal once he was out of the cuffs and his magic returned.

As it was, he had a tremulous, but constant hold on his Jotun magic, and the vampiric shackles were left to slowly but steadily sap at his strength, and he could now turn his thoughts elsewhere.

Why Tyr had seen the need to attack him so, why he had turned on them at all, was a mystery to him. It baffled him to no end. But, he told himself, he had more important things to think about at the moment. Namely, escape. Freeing himself from the shackles and getting out of there was his primary concern at the moment. If he could get out, he could reunite with Natasha and Thor, and together they could come back and free the others. Or, he could escape and then free the others and retake Asgard. He shook his head, clearing those thoughts away. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

With a grunt, he turned over onto his stomach, then attempted to drag himself upright. His arms shook under his weight, then gave way, leaving him to collapse back to the floor with a moan of despair. He felt pathetic, unable to even get up off the ground. Instead, he simply laid there, defeated, for the moment at least.

Deciding that his current position was comfortable enough, he closed his eyes and restored his hold on his magic to a semblance of its former strength. That done, he turned his mind toward finding a way out of the cuffs.

First, he tried to reached them with his long fingers, hoping that he could reach the little lights on them and release them, just as he had seen Thrym do to that other device that had been attached to Mjolnir. It was of no use though, as his fingers were not long enough for such a feat. He had seen the others attempted to pull their hands from them, and seen their failure with his own eyes, but it was at least worth a try. He rolled over onto his back and lifted his hands above him, one hand going to the opposite wrist and attempting to slip the shackle around and off the hand. His movements were slow and weak, his breathing labored and body throbbed in pain. Finally, after a short moment, he gave up and let his arms fall back down, one going to his side, the other coming to rest on his chest.

Next, he lifted the hand on his chest up in front of his face and he studied the little lights on the dully shining shackle. Deciding that it was worth a shot, he thought back to that day on Jotunheim and tried to recall the sequence that Thrym had used to remove the device. Once he felt that he had the sequence right in his head, he proceeded to reach up with his other hand and touch the lights in the same order as he remembered. Nothing happened. Thinking that perhaps he had made a mistake, though he doubted it, he repeated the process. Again, nothing happened.

He sighed in frustration and let the hand fall to his side once more. He should have known that Johann would not use the same unlock sequence for the shackles as he had for the device. If he was smart, which Loki knew he was, Johann would have given each set of cuffs a different sequence, therefore keeping anyone from getting the code and unlocking everyone else's cuffs as well. Yes, he was smart.

This presented a problem in that if he managed to somehow get himself free, how would he get the others free? _**First thing first. I need to free myself...but how?**_ Then, an idea occurred to him as he felt his Jotun magic pulse where he was containing it within himself. Concentrating, he let some of his Frost Giant magic slip free of his hold and he directed it straight to the cuff on his right hand. Before it could be absorbed, he felt the shackle grow cold around his wrist. He repeated this with the other side, and was greeted with the same result. His lips curled into a smirk, the fresh and dried blood on his face making for a rather disturbing image for any who may have been looking upon him at that moment. His eyes held a small glint of mischief and malice as he determined what he had to do. He would freeze the cuffs, then break them against the hard stones all around him. But, he knew that it was all about timing. He would have to wait until he had an opening to escape. He did not know when that would be, but he knew that he would know it when it came. So, he would bide his time, and when the time was right, he would strike.

He gathered what strength he could, then crawled to his knees. His breathing was heavier after his exertion, but he paid it no mind. His eyes slipped closed, and he divided his attention between his magic and his hearing, For now, he would wait.

**XXXX**

Johann walked slowly up the stairs from the dungeons, Tyr several steps ahead of him. He watched the former Prince of Asgard carefully. He did not suspect that he would have much more trouble of this nature from Tyr, seeing as they would soon depart from Asgard to Earth, and an outlet for the General's ire would be provided in the form of S.H.I.E.L.D. and anyone else that dared to get in their way.

They came out of the dungeon into a long hallway. Tyr continued down this hall toward the door at the far end. This door would take them back to the throne room. There was another hall connected to this one that would bypass the throne room and lead straight to the outside of the palace. Tyr ignored this path and continued straight to the throne room. He pushed the thick door open with one hand and strode through without glancing back to see if Johann made it through.

Johann ignored Tyr's behavior and caught the door easily before it swung back closed. He stepped through and let it close behind him. Tyr stopped in front of the throne, where Amora was now perched, Skurge nowhere to be seen.

"I know you are angry, Tyr. But, save your rage for the enemy," Johann told him as he came to a halt beside the bigger man. "Come." Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the door. After a moment of hesitation, Tyr followed. The whole while that they walked down the length of the room, Amora watched them go with curious confusion.

Johann pushed the two large stone doors open and sunlight poured in from the outside, bathing them in warmth and casting their profiles into silhouette from Amora's vantage point. They stopped for a short moment on the top of the palace stairs, eyes scanning the scene before them. The courtyard, then beyond to the city surrounding it. It struck Johann that he was now in command of it all. The though brought a smile to his face.

"Soon, Asgard's influence will spread to the farthest reaches of the Nine Worlds," Johann said, more to himself than anyone else.

Beside him, Tyr nodded. "Yes."

Johann turned to look at him. "Let us depart. We have much to do."

Tyr nodded again and the two set off down the stairs.

They crossed the courtyard in silence. Johann looked to his right and spied the entrance to the garden that held the tree that the Prince Loki had been imprisoned in by Odin what seemed like a lifetime ago. He remembered thinking at the time that it was a cruel fate to bestow upon someone, now, he had seen the wisdom in it. Loki had emerged a better person than he had been, and had even helped them all defeat their common foe. But, redemption was an oppurtunity provided by the weak and sentimental. He would offer no such opportunity. He could not afford to.

Once they exited the courtyard, they took to the main path through the city toward the Rainbow Bridge. With every step they took, the people all around watched them, some with fear, others with distrust, others with anger or resentment, and some with admiration. Despite the many eyes upon them, Johann did not falter or miss a step, nor did he show any outward sign that even noticed them at all. Tyr gave no such illusion, glaring at them all in turn. Many cowered under his smoldering gaze.

The trip to the Bifrost was long and uneventful, and they soon arrived at the city gates. Two guards were waiting nearby and held the reins to two horses. Johann took the reigns to one and pulled himself up into the saddle, while Tyr did the same beside him. They set off at a canter, covering the distance from the gate to the Bifrost at more than double the speed that they had previously done so. Johann would not have minded walking, but he supposed that riding was faster, therefore better, at the moment. It made him miss his old car a bit. He wondered what had become of it.

He pushed that thought away as they reigned in at the entrance to the Bifrost. As was usual, Heimdall stood in front of the entrance, sword held in his hands, pointing down, and his eyes holding a faraway look.

Johann and Tyr dismounted and walked up to the guardian. "Heimdall," Johann greeted, with just a shred of an edge to his voice.

Heimdall's eyes changed focus and the faraway look faded as he turned them toward Johann. "My King," Heimdall greeted back, his own voice calm and even.

"Prepare the Bifrost," Johann ordered.

Heimdall inclined his head, then turned on his heel and stalked into the large golden dome. Tyr and Johann exchanged a glance before following him in and taking their place near where the portal would open. Off to the side of the room, Skurge stood leaning against the wall, looking bored.

Johann gave him a hard look as they took their positions, Skurge looked back with a sliver of defiance, but said nothing to the King.

Heimdall took his place atop the raised daïs and inserted his sword into the activation slot. Lightning arched out from it and took the form of the great tree, Yggdrasil. He turned his orange eyes to Johann. "Be warned. If your return should threaten the safety of these realms, Bifrost will remained closed to you." Johann met Heimdall's gaze and nodded. He knew this was the most important of Heimdall's duties, to keep Asgard safe, and the warning was the same that he gave to all, whether they had heard it before or not. "Now, what is your destination?"

Johann turned back forward. "Earth. Make sure to land us near New York."

Heimdall nodded grimly and the portal began to form in front of them as the rendering of Yggdrasil shifted at Heimdall's bidding. The gateway materialized before them and the two travelers were drawn into it through means beyond their own, though neither resisted it.

Color upon color upon color swirled all about them, some light, some dark, all of them clear and brilliant in their depth, though they flickered in and out much too quickly for one to focus on for more than a fraction of a second at a time. An unnatural wind-swept them along and they could feel the pressure of gravity fluctuating rapidly as they were transported halfway across the universe in space of a few short seconds.

Soon they felt the steadiness of solid ground under their feet and the maelström that was the Bifrost dissipated around them, leaving them a thick cloud of dust in its wake. When it cleared away, Johann and Tyr cast their gaze around to find themselves standing in the middle of a park, next to a small pond.

Johann immediately sought out a landmark to determine their whereabouts and gain his bearings. From where he was standing, he could just make out part of the Stark Tower. He turned his head toward the area behind him and smiled. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s underground bunker was not all that far from their current position. He turned to Tyr. "We must leave this area immediately. S.H.I.E.L.D. will have noticed our arrival. We must not be here when they arrive, lest we encounter unwanted complications."

Tyr nodded and the followed Johann's lead in sprinting away from the park, in the direction of the bunker.

**XXXX**

Steve and a small group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents arrived in the park a few minutes later. They immediately fanned out and secured the area, detaining anyone nearby for questioning. Steve and another agent stood at the touch-down point of the Bifrost, evident by the swirling Celtic knots and sharp Nordic runes imprinted into the ground at their feet.

None of them knew what the markings where for, or if they meant anything at all, other than that they were always found at the place that the Bifrost touched down on their planet. They were kind of like crop circles in that respect.

The agent with Steve had a camera out and was snapping photos of the markings from several angles while Steve, wearing his Captain America uniform, with the mask pulled back off his face, scanned the area for anything out-of-place. A moment later, an agent wearing black and blue combat armor emblazoned with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the arms came running up to his, his assault rifle lowered to hip height. "The area is secured, Sir."

Steve nodded. "Very good, Lieutenant. Any sign of the insurgents?" With the news of Asgard's fall, Steve had been ordered to treat any arrivals from Asgard as potential hostiles.

The agent shook his head. "None, Sir."

Steve frowned and turned in a circle. His eyes took in the surrounding buildings and light posts. He spotted several security cameras, as well as traffic cameras in the area. He pointed them out to the agent. "I want the surveillance footage from each of those cameras, going back one hour to now. Get on it."

The agent nodded and gave a sharp salute. "Yes sir!" He then turned and jogged off to do as he was told, calling a few members of his team over to assist him.

Steve watched the agents go about their task for a moment, then turned to the agent with the camera. "All done?"

The agent nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Steve nodded. "Good. Head back to base and get started on the analysis."

"Yes sir," the agent said, saluting. He then ran over to one of the black vehicles that they had arrived in.

Steve looked down at the imprint, then up at the late afternoon sun. His brow creased as his frown deepened. When the Lieutenant waved to him that the footage had been compiled, he ordered them all back to the vehicle. They all piled in after releasing the few witnesses that had been in the area, though none had been able to give them more information than the fact that there had been two people that had come down from the clouds.

The drive back to the bunker was short, though it seemed to take much longer than it actually did. During the ride back, he placed a call to Stark, asking if anymore Asgardians had dropped in on him in the past few minutes. The answer was a confused 'no'. Steve had explained the situation to Tony, and the co-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had informed him that he would be at the bunker soon.

Steve climbed out of the SUV that he was in and marched inside with the agents. In his hand was a small memory device that held the footage from the security and traffic cameras.

He made his way straight to the control center where Fury was waiting for his report. Upon entering, Fury turned his one good eye toward him. "What did you find, Captain?"

Steve stepped over to where Fury was standing. "Whoever it was, they were gone by the time we arrived. I had the team pull the security footage from all of the nearby cameras." He held up the device and set it down on top of Fury's console.

Fury nodded. "No signs whatsoever?"

Steve shook his head. "None. We questioned the witnesses, and the only solid information we could get was that there were two of them."

Fury picked up the little memory device and inserted it into his console. "Let's get started on this footage."

At that moment, Tony came in through the door and made his way directly toward them. "Alright, so what have we got?"

Steve indicated the images that were now displayed on the holo-screen above the console. "The cameras surrounding the landing zone, going back one hour. The anomaly occurred at approximately 1800 hours, give or take a couple of moments. We know only that two individuals arrived at this time. Who, or why, are unknown."

Tony nodded. "JARVIS, fast-forward to anomaly occurence."

The images blurred as the AI sped forward to the desired time. When it finally returned to normal, the majority of the screens were filled with static interference, save for one. Steve frowned and Tony cursed under his breath.

"Sir, the Bifrost appears to have been giving off too much energy, it disrupted the cameras' signals, making them practically useless," JARVIS informed him.

Tony nodded. "All except that one. It must have been far enough away to not be effected." Tony rubbed his chin in thought. "JARVIS, discard Cameras one through seven. Enlarge camera number eight, please." The distorted images disappeared and the final one was brought up larger. "Restart from anomaly appearance."

In the screen they watched as a large swirl of clouds descended from the sky and touched down in the park. When the dust cleared they could see two men, judging by their size and shape, one larger and the other more on the average side of the scale. The larger of the two was wearing black armor, and carrying a large battle-axe across his back. The other was wearing black as well, though his outfit was longer, reaching down to his knees, and carried no weapon. The first had longer hair that was in two braids, the second had shorter hair. They couldn't make out much more than that.

Tony asked JARVIS to enlarge the image and increase the resolution. After this was done, Tony could now make out the identities of the two men. "Johann, and...damn, what was his name? He is one of Thor's brothers. Tire, or something like that."

"Sir, facial recognition corresponds with file number 25398A. His name is Tyr Odinson, son of Odin Borson and Lady Frigga, brother of Thor, Loki, Vidar, Hermod and Balder Odinson, one of the five Generals of Asgard."

Tony snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Tyr, that's it. Thank you, JARVIS"

"Well," Steve said, bringing their focus back to the situation at hand, "it appears that Schmidt is going to be making his move much sooner than expected."

Tony nodded, his expression growing serious once more. "It would seem so."

Fury's face was set in a grim expression as he too agreed with the super-soldier. "We are going to need all hands on deck here. And soon. First thing's first, we'll need to call all our agents back in and bring them up to speed on what's going on. We'll also need to call in a few favors."

Tony nodded again. "Yep." He clapped his hands. "Let's get to it!"

**XXXX**

Night had fallen hours ago in the rugged, arid landscape of the Kunar Province of Afghanistan, but for S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Phil Coulson, sleep would not come. So, he stood outside of the military base he was currently commissioned to, gazing up at the clear, star-filled sky.

He was dressed in a set of dusty Army fatigues, and he found them uncomfortable compared to his usual attire of a crisp and clean black suit and white button-up shirt.

The night was quiet, save for the occasional gust of desert wind. Despite the cool temperatures of the night, he wore no jacket and showed no outward signs that the cold bothered him at all. In fact, he was quite comfortable at the moment.

But, the quiet was not to last as the phone in his pocket began to ring softly. He glanced down at his pocket and smoothly reached inside and withdrew his little phone. He checked the caller ID and answered it. "Coulson."

"We need you to come in," Tony Stark's voice said from the other end of the line. "We have a situation. And bring the kid with you. A Quinjet is already on route to your location."

Coulson's eyes darted sidways to the tent that was erected nearby. Inside, his fellow Rangers of the Second Battalion were sleeping. "Understood." With that, he ended the call and stood from where he had been sitting. He returned the phone to his pocket and made his way inside the tent.

He walked down the length of the tent, past multiple bunks, until he came to the slumbering form of the one he sought. He looked down at the young man, taking in the dark skin and stern features. Staff Sergeant Marcus Johnson was the only one here that he could call his friend, and he was the primary reason that he was here in the first place. He had been asked by Nick Fury to keep an eye on the boy, monitor him and report back anything out of the usual. From what he could tell, he was a relatively normal young man, aside from his extensive military training, of course.

Coulson knew why Fury wanted him to bring him back with him, and knew that soon the young man would find out the truth. So, he reached down and gently shook the man's arm, catching the other when Marcus struck out with a knife that had been hidden under his pillow. As soon as he realized who had woken him, he muttered a quiet apology and returned the knife to its sheath. "Get up, Marcus. We have to go."

Marcus narrowed his eyes as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What's going on, Cheese?"

Coulson merely ushered him up. "I'll explain on the way. Right now, you need to gather your belongings while I go talk to the commander."

Marcus nodded and set about gathering his few personal items and packing them away in his rucksack.

Coulson exited the tent and made his way toward the command tent, where he knew that the man in charge of their battalions was located. He entered without preamble and called out to the man, who had been laying in his own cot. the Commander awoke without problem and was on his feet in an instant. Coulson did not wait for him to speak. "Commander, I have received a call from my superiors, and I will be departing soon with Staff Sergeant Johnson."

The Commander frowned. "So soon?"

Coulson nodded. "Yes. Our transportation is on its way we will be on our way before morning." He held out his hand to the Commander. "Good luck out here, Commander. I'm sure we'll meet again."

The Commander shook his hand and bid him good luck, then Coulson left the tent to find Marcus waiting for him outside with his bag slung over his shoulder. Coulson walked over stand next to him. As he was walking, his phone rang again. He answered it after glancing at the ID. "Coulson." He listened to what was said by the person on the other end of the line. "Very good." He then hung up. He spoke his next words to Marcus. "Out transportation is a few miles out and will be arriving momentarily."

Marcus nodded. Coulson could see the questions burning behind his eyes, but he remained quiet for the moment. No more than two minutes later, the Quinjet was in sight and make its descent toward them. Coulson had to give the jets credit, they were fast.

The Quinjet hovered above them, then lowered down, kicking up a cloud of sand as it touched down. The rear ramp lowered and Coulson motioned for Marcus to board, then followed him onboard. He pressed the button that raised the ramp, then proceeded to the front of the jet. "We're all set." he told the pilot, who gave a thumbs up and began lift off.

Coulson returned to the back of the jet and sat down across from Marcus, who had taken a seat and laid his bag down at his feet. The dark-skinned young man looked over at him, his eyes serious. "You going to tell me what's going on Cheese? Or you going to leave me in the dark?"

Coulson sighed. How to begin? "Marcus, I am not who you think I am." He saw the younger man open his mouth to speak, but held up a hand to forestall any questions. "My name _is_ Philip Coulson, but I am not an Army Ranger, at least, not anymore. I am a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, sent to keep an eye on you and monitor your activities."

Marcus tilted his head. "S.H.I.E.L.D.? Never heard of it."

"Then we've done our job," Coulson said. "Strategic Homeland Intervention Espionage and Logistics Division. Or, alternatively, Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, take your pick, both are valid."

Marcus listened to what Coulson said with a curious expression. "And, what does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with me? Where are we going?"

Coulson blinked once. "That really isn't my information to give. Director Fury will want to speak to you directly. As for where we are going, New York. We have base there. I do not currently know the details of the situation, only that we were requested to return at once. Whatever it is, it can't be good."

The rest of the flight was silent as Marcus thought about what he had just been told. Coulson, for his part, took the opportunity to catch a couple hours of sleep.

**XXXX**

The sun was beginning to set down toward the New York skyline. On a country road, the usual tranquility was shattered by the loud rumbling roar of a motorcycle. The bike was blazing along at speeds well beyond that of the legal limits for the road it was traveling upon, but this was of little concern for the man straddling the metal beast.

The man in question had the appearance of being in his mid-thirties, with dark brown hair blown back from riding the bike without a helmet and a beard covered much of his jaw and chin, and his upper lip was dusted with a mustache. His eyes held an almost feral quality to them, but this was held in check by a quiet, calm determination and strength.

Logan shifted his weight as his bike took a wide turn and his keen eyes caught sight of a gas station up ahead. Deciding that he needed a drink, he slowed the bike and pulled off the road and into the station. He parked the bike next to one of the fuel pumps, figuring that he may as well top off while there, then he dismounted and made his way inside the little station.

He immediately made his way to the back of the store where the beverages were stored in chilled shelves. He plucked out a six-pack of beers and made his way to the front of the store. He placed his beverages on the counter and withdrew his wallet while the clerk rung up his purchase.

The clerk looked up at him. "ID, please." Logan merely raised his eyes to meet the man's and held his gaze until the other man looked away. "Right, okay." He tapped a few buttons on his register. "Anything else?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah, I'm gonna fill my bike up." He gestured to the motorcycle sitting out by the pump, then plucked a fifty from out of his wallet and tossed it down on the counter. "Keep the change, bub."

With that, he grabbed his beer and exited the store. When he got back to his bike, he sat the six-pack on the seat and took one of the bottles out. With a quick, practiced motion, he had extended one of his Adamantium claws and popped the lid off of it. He drained the contents without stopping, then tossed the empty container into a nearby trash can. He then proceeded to remove the gas cap from his bike and picked up the nozzle from the pump, inserting it into the opening.

The squeezed the handle and engaged the locking mechanism, then opened another beer. This one, he drank more slowly. After to swallows, his phone began to ring. He lowered his drink and used his free hand to dig his phone out of one of the inside pockets of his leather jacket. He peered at the caller ID curiously as only a few people had his number, the Institute and S.H.I.E.L.D. among them. When he saw Nick Fury's name on the screen, he considered ignoring the call. But, he knew how persistent the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. could be, and knew that he would only keep calling until he gave in and answered. So, it was with a resigned sigh that he pressed the talk button and placed the phone against his ear.

"This had better be important, Nick," he said by way of greeting.

"It is," Fury's voice said from the other end. "We have a situation, Logan. We need you to come in."

Logan, who had just taken a drink of his beer, swallowed and gave a noncommittal grunt. "Oh yeah? Well, seeing as I just got back to the states, I think I deserve some down time."

"Well, that is going to have to wait, Logan," Fury responded.

Logan shook his head, even though he knew that Fury couldn't see it. "Alright, listen up, bub. I'm not one of your agents, so, when you say 'jump', I don't ask 'how high?'."

The exasperation was evident in Fury's voice when he spoke. "Listen, Logan, we need your help, and we need you to come in."

Logan frowned. "Are you asking me to jump, Nick?"

There was an audible sigh from the other end of the line. "Yes, now, what do you say?"

"Go fuck yourself," Logan answered, then ended the call.

He drained the last of his beer, nearly growling when his phone rang again. He tossed the bottle in the trash with the previous one and opened up a third, ignoring the ringing of his phone as he took a long swallow of the cool liquid. He noticed that the pump had stopped and the lock on the nozzle had released, signalling that the tank was full, so he withdrew the nozzle and replaced it on its holder, then screwed the gas cap back on. He placed the three remaining beers in the saddle-bag that was draped over the rear of the bike and remounted, all the while ignoring the incessant ringing of his phone.

He took another long pull from the bottle, then sighed. He closed his eyes in an annoyed manner, then answered his phone. "Nick-"

He was cut off from saying anything more by Fury's interrupting him. "Logan, I understand that you just got back, and I understand that you want some time to yourself, but the situation is a bit more complicated than I can convey over the phone. Come in and we'll talk. After that, we'll see how things go, alright?"

Logan sighed. "Alright, bub. Where am I headed?" He was silently glad that he had decided to fill up when he did.

"Manhattan," Fury told him. "You know where to find us."

Logan nodded to himself. "Yeah."

"Alright." The relief was evident in Fury's voice. "We'll be expecting you."

Logan drained the last dregs of his beer. "Yeah." He then hung up the phone and replaced it in the interior pocket of his jacket. He started up his bike and tossed the bottle in the trash, then he turned his bike around and got back on the road, heading back the way he had come.

**XXXX**

Johann and Tyr stood with their back pressed against a wall. Just around the corner where three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Also around this corner was the entrance to the archives. Sneaking into the bunker had not been all that difficult, all things considered. They had taken out a handful of agents at the entrance, then quickly descended into the facility.

Having previously been to this area of the base before, when he had stolen some of the designs for weapons, Johann knew where he was going and how to get their without much difficulty.

He turned to look at his current companion and gave a short nod to tell him to let him handle the situation. Then, he stepped around the corner and approached the three agents. It did not take long for them to notice him, and while they did not recognize him, they did recognize the emblem of the HYDRA skull on the arms of his uniform. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been in conflict with the modern incarnation of HYDRA for some time, long enough for the agents to know their symbol when they saw it.

The three men immediately drew their weapons and trained them on him. Johann raised his hands at his side to indicate that he was unarmed. "Halt!" one of the agents said, and Johann stopped where he was. Two of the agents flanked him while the one that had spoken came up in front of him. None of them had lowered their weapons. "How the hell did you get in here?!" the agent demanded.

Johann smirked and met the eyes of the agent in front of him. "Like this." Before the agents had time to react, Johann had batted the gun from the hands of the agent in front of him and grabbed his arm, twisting it a manner in which it was not meant to naturally bend. The sound of bones snapping was heard, followed by a cry, which was silenced by a swift strike to the throat.

He released the agent and turned on another and pushed the gun point away, just as the man-made to pull the trigger. He elbowed the man in the face, took hold of the man's arm and spun so that he was facing away from him with his back against the man's chest and his arm held over his shoulder. He then pulled down, snapping the man's arm at the elbow. He released the man and struck backwards with his own elbow, knocking his off his feet and back into the wall.

Next, he charged straight at the last man, ducking low to take the man in the midsection. He lifted him from the ground and slammed him into the wall with enough force to shatter ribs and displace vertebrae. The man's face contorted in pain and his mouth opened in a silent scream, as Johann let him fall to the ground.

One of the other guards managed to regain his feet, his broken arm dangling uselessly at his side, his gun clutched in good hand. His face and body had broken out in sweat and his face was frozen in a mask of pain. Johann turned on him and backhanded the gun from the his hand, then grabbed the man by the face, smashing his head backward into the wall with devastating force. The man's skull cracked upon impact and his eyes grew distant. Another smash and the light left his eyes altogether as his skull split against the smooth steel walls.

Johann let the lifeless man fall to the floor without a care and turned on the first man, stepping on his hand as he reached for his gun. He then placed his hands on either side of the man's head and lifted him up off the ground. The man struggled and squirmed, but this all ended when Johann tightened his grip on the man's head and gave it a sharp, vicious twist, breaking the agent's neck.

Now, only one agent remained, yet this one did not reach for his gun, his body going numb from the fractured spinal column. Johann approached like a shark smelling blood. The agent closed his eyes, accepting that his time was at an end. Johann stopped at the man's feet and gazed down at him. He was now in conflict with himself. On one hand, this man was no longer a threat, and therefore he was not required to harm him any further, but on the other, he had seen his face. It wasn't as though he wanted to keep himself hidden, that was near impossible considering that both Thor and Natasha knew who he was and S.H.I.E.L.D. would have known by now as well.

Then, another thought occurred to him as he looked down at him. There was blood seeping from between him lips, hinting at internal damage. It was highly likely that this man would die before any help arrived. But, it would be a long, slow and painful death.

Making his decision, Johann knelt in front of the man and reached out, picking up the man's fallen weapon and placed it in his hand. The fingers closed around it weakly. Then Johann reached out once more, taking the agent's head in his hands. The agent's eyes opened and met his, they were clouded by pain and a few unshed tears clung to the corners. After a short moment, the man gave a subtle nod to him and closed his eyes, the tears finally falling free and sliding down his cheeks.

Johann sighed in resignation as memories of a long forgotten past flashed through his mind's eye. Images of a small, helpless puppy in his arms, broken and bloodied. He forced his eyes shut and with a single quick movement, broke the man's neck.

Johann released a breath that he had not been aware that he was holding. He stood, looking down at the now-dead man with pity and some measure of sorrow. He shook his head, trying to dispel those feelings. He was not sure what was wrong with him, but he refused to let it weaken him or his resolve. He had long ago left such useless human emotions behind, and he willed them to stay suppressed. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his features into a mask of indifference and cold detachment, with hints of malice. This was who he was, and he had long accepted that, and he would not let old ghosts haunt him any longer.

With his emotions finally back under control, Johann went to the first agent, the one with the broken neck, and snatched the security card off of the agent then stood up straight and gave a short low whistle. Tyr came around the corner, his eyes taking in the broken bodies that now littered the corridor floor. He nodded his approval to Johann. Johann ignored this and motioned to the body that he had just taken the card from and made a cutting motion across his neck.

Tyr nodded and pulled the axe from his back and advanced on the corpse. With a single swing, he separated the man's head from his shoulders, blood splashing out of what remained of the neck in a short gush, which soon became a steady outflow. Johann then motioned for him to remove the man's hand as well. Once this was done, Johann picked up the severed appendage and Tyr lifted the head and followed his leader down the corridor.

They walked until they reached a door. Johann swiped the card through the thin slot provided. As soon as he did this, a small beep was heard and a little green light flashed. A slot opened and a thumb pad extended out from the wall. Johann pressed the thumb of the severed hand to the pad and the print was scanned. While it did this, Tyr made sure that the eyes of the head were open. After the thumb was scanned, another beep was heard and a second light flashed, then another slot opened and a retinal scanner appeared from out of the wall. Quickly, Tyr handed the head to Johann, who held it up to the scanner. The laser traced the eye of the decapitated head, then closed. A beep was heard, followed by a third and final flash of a tiny green light, then a hiss was heard as the door slid open.

Johann tossed the head and hand aside and stepped into the room. Tyr took up position outside the room, acting as the lookout and guard while Johann found the information that they sought.

It was a slow process, searching through the seemingly endless flood of information held within the S.H.I.E.L.D. archives. The room was massive, filled with long, tall metal shelves that contained box after box of files and items that S.H.I.E.L.D. had deemed important enough to be kept on record. On the end of each shelf was a contents sheet. It told what was kept in the corresponding shelf. It seemed that someone had seen fit to alphabetized the archives, so that made his job easier.

It took him just a bit longer than he had expected to find the shelf holding the information on HYDRA. When he finally found the items, there were only three cases and two file folders. In the first box was a HYDRA uniform. In the second, was one of their rifles, and in the third was a folded HYDRA banner. He took the rifle and the power-cell that was with it and slung it over his shoulder. Then, he took the banner and draped it over his arm, then grabbed the two files and made his way back to the door where Tyr was waiting.

He gave a nod to the man, and handed him the banner, which was then stowed away in a bag that Tyr had hanging at his hip. With a jerk of his head, Johann motioned for Tyr to follow him. Escaping was easier than getting in, it turned out, and they were soon away from the bunker, without any but a handful of dead agents being any the wiser, and they weren't talking. It was as they say, Johann figured: Dead men tell no tales.

**XXXX**

**A/N: Alright, another chapter down! Things are moving forward and the game is afoot! Let me know what you think. Review if it suits you, but do not flame...fire bad. So, what will Johann do with the information he stole? Will Loki be able to escape? What will S.H.I.E.L.D. do when they find out that their archives have been broken into? What will Fury and the other Avengers think of Natasha's pregnancy? Tune in to the next chapter to find out.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**


	9. The Horrors of War

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Welcome, welcome, to the new chapter of Resistance. I would like to extend my gratitude to all those who graciously took the time to leave a review. Thank you all so very, very much. Your insight and comments are much appreciated. This was a difficult chapter to write, and I think it could have been better, but I also think that it is as good as I am going to get it. Now, enjoy the story!**

**Note: A bit of dark content in this chapter, nothing too bad, at least not by my standards, but I figured that I would mention it.**

**Note #2: Some more comic-book characters appear in this chapter, one of them a major player, just a heads up.**

**RESISTANCE**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter IX: The Horrors of War**

**'I am my own holocaust, separated from the lamb of god. Myself I abhor and detest. What have I done to deserve this abyss? Murder, murder, murder! The guise of the accursed. Slaughter, slaughter, slaughter! A climax in release. Every day is the day of the dead. Sickened by the sight of the living.'**

**-Post Modern Sadist, by Ov Hell.**

Tony Stark strode forward down the corridor with quick, determined steps. He had received a call from the bunker earlier that morning, saying that some bodies had been discovered in the lower levels of the facility. He had quickly showered and dressed, forgoing breakfast in favor of a cup of coffee, to go, and set off for HQ at top speed, ignoring several stop-lights and traffic signs in order to reduce travel time.

Now, he rounded a corner, coming to a small group of agents going about various tasks around the bodies that had been mentioned earlier. He stepped passed a couple of agents with notepads, taking notes on the layout of the crime scene. Another agent with a camera was circling the corpses, snapping photos from every possible angle.

Maria Hill stood off to the side, overseeing the investigation. She looked up as Tony stepped carelessly over the bodies as though they weren't there. "Talk to me, Hill."

Maria looked between him and the three dead agents and shook her head. "There's not much to go off of, sir. Three dead agents. One," she pointed to a man laying headless in the middle of the hall, he was also missing a hand, "died from obvious causes; decapitation. Two, she gestured to one near her, laying in a heap near the wall, which was stained with dried blood with skull fragments and bits of brain matter in it, "from bludgeoning, with a wall blunt object; in this case, the wall. And three," she gestured to the opposite wall where a third agent lay with his neck twisted at an awkward angle, "from a broken neck. We'll have to do a full medical inspection of all three to determine if they suffered any other injuries beyond the obvious."

Tony nodded and looked at the headless corpse with an expression that was somewhere between disgust and curiosity. It was then that he noticed a trail of blood moving away from the body and down the corridor. He pointed it out to Hill. "Did you see where that goes?"

Maria nodded and motioned for him to follow her. She then started walking down the hall in the direction that the blood trail went. "When we first found this, we, of course, followed the trail. And, what we found wasn't very pleasant." She came to a stop outside the door that led to the archives. On the floor just outside the doorway was the agent's missing head and hand. "Whoever killed them went through the trouble of taking the head and hand all the way down here, only to discard them." She looked back down the hall at the three bodies, then back at the separated pieces. "They aren't far enough away to be hidden, and on top of that, they are in plain sight. Usually, when a killer removes the head or hands, it's to prevent easy identification of the body, but this doesn't appear to be the case here. I, honestly, have no idea what the point of it was."

Tony looked at the two body parts and frowned, then turned his eyes up to the door that they were found outside of. His frown deepened. "Tell me, Agent Hill, did you think to check out the Archives?"

Maria frowned as well and looked at the door. "No, sir."

"Was there an ID card on the body that was missing its head?" Tony inquired, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his mind, or at least an idea of them.

Maria narrowed her eyes in confusion. "I'm not sure. But what does that have-"

Tony cut her off mid-sentence. "What are the three things needed to open this door, Hill?"

Maria still appeared to not understand, but went along with him and answered anyway. "An ID card, a thumb-print scan and a..." Her gaze drifted to the two body parts and her eyes widened as she caught on to what Tony was getting at. "A retinal scan." Without waiting for his response, she turned down the hall and made her way back to the three bodies, calling out to the agents still gathered there. "You," she pointed to one of the agents, "check his pockets. Find his identification card, now!"

The agent nodded and dropped to his knees beside the headless corpse. He sifted through the man's pockets one by one and came up with only a wallet, holding a driver's licence and a small sum of money. "He does not have one on him, ma'am. But his driver's licence says that his name is-"

Maria was no longer listening as she marched back to where Tony was standing and stepped passed him to stand in front of the door. She withdrew her own ID card and swiped it through the thin, almost hidden slot. She then scanned her thumb, then her retinas.

The door hissed open and both her and Tony entered the Archives. Maria looked down as she stepped into the room and noticed something on the floor. Tony continued passed her as she knelt down to take a look at it. Her fingers lifted it from the floor and held it up in front of her eyes. It was the missing card.

"Well," she said, "someone has definitely been in here." She held up the card as Tony looked back at her. "The agent's card."

Tony furrowed his brow and turned back to the long, tall shelves. "Who would benefit from breaking into this room?"

"I don't know," Maria answered. She looked back over her shoulder at the corridor. "We don't have camera's down here. Budget cuts."

Tony nodded. "We'll need to remedy that. I'll pay for it myself."

He thought back to the day before, of the video of Schmidt and Tyr landing on Earth and running off before they could get there. He wasn't sure, but he thought that perhaps they may have been running in the general direction of this bunker. He cursed under his breath and strode swiftly down the rows until he came to the shelf that he knew held their information on HYDRA.

When he came to the place that they should have been located, he cursed again, louder this time. "Shit!"

Maria came along behind him and looked at him in askance. "What is it?"

Tony motioned to the empty spaces on the shelf. "All of our HYDRA information and equipment is gone." He slapped his hand down on the empty shelf, hard. "Damn it!" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "First they disappear before we can get to them, and now they slip in right under our noses and rob us blind!" He started walking back the way that they had come, Maria walking just a few paces behind him. "Get this mess cleaned up, then report to the control room."

Maria nodded her head. "Yes, sir."

Tony sighed again and walked down the corridor, past the agents and bodies, then up to the main area of the facility. It did not take him long to find one of the back exits to the bunker. He needed some fresh air.

He pushed the door open and strode out. A small shout escaped his lips as his foot collided with something and he was nearly sent sprawling to the ground. He stumbled forward, but managed to retain his feet. After steadying himself, he turned around to see what he had tripped over. His face fell as his eyes landed on four more dead agents laying dead on the ground. He backed up until his back came in contact with a wall, he then sank down into a sitting position, his hands coming up to cover his mouth as his eye remained transfixed on the slashed and beaten bodies before him.

When he was finally able to tear his gaze away from the mutilation, he realize that he was in a generally unused area of the bunker, a parking garage to be exact, which he assumed was where Johann and the savage Asgardian, Tyr, had gained entry to the facility.

With shaking hands, he pulled out his phone and dialed Fury's number. After three rings, his call was answered. "Stark? Where are you?"

Tony let out a ragged breath. "Nick, we've got a problem."

"What are you talking about? Where are you? Hill said that you had left the lower levels and were heading this way," Fury said.

Tony nodded to himself. "Yeah, I was heading that way, but decided to take a quick break and get a breath of air, and, well, we have more bodies out here."

There was silence on the other end of the line as Fury took in what Stark had just said. "Where are you?" he asked again.

Tony sighed and looked around. "Parking garage 'C'. I've got four dead agents down here, looking like they lost a fight with a cheese grater."

"Stay there," Fury said. "A team is on its way."

Tony nodded again, not realizing that Fury couldn't see him. "Yeah." He pressed the 'End Call' button on his phone and returned it to his pocket. He pulled himself to his feet and began to pace. Every few steps, he would take a glance at the bodies, then wish that he hadn't. After seeing the damage downstairs, added on to all the death and destruction he had seen, he figured that he would be able to handle this, but it would seem that he was wrong. Seeing an alien blown apart, and seeing one of your subordinates with their internal organs spilling out of their stomachs and their tongues blue and bulging in their open mouths, and their eyes wide and staring unblinking out into nothing as flies buzzed around them, landing inside their gaping wounds and on their protruding tongues and exposed eyes, were two completely different things. None of it had prepared him for this level of butchery.

He was sure that Thor, or Loki, hell maybe even Steve, Clint and Natasha, could look at this and hardly be fazed, but he was not a soldier, nor was he as experienced with this side of warfare, and it shook him to his very core to see human beings left like road-kill.

Finally, telling himself to get his act together, he turned and forced his eyes to gaze at the carnage. He could not do so for very long. It was a horrible sight, one that he hoped he would never have to see again, but knew that that was a fool's hope. In this line of work, he knew that he was now in a world where the horrors of war were no longer just statistics and headline on a newspaper or CNN, they were all around him, in his home, and in his workplace. He had always been a part of the endless cycle of bloodshed and death, but where before it had only been at a distance, he was now in the thick of things, and he was going to have to get used to it.

It wasn't long before the door, that he himself had come through earlier, opened again to admit a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents through into the garage. They immediately set to work collecting evidence and documenting the crime scene with having to be told to do so. Tony spoke briefly to the head of this team before returning to the inside of the facility and heading toward his original destination with long, quick strides.

Up three flights of stairs and down three hallways and he was finally in the control room. Without a word, he made his way to his console, which was opposite Fury's, and began working; scheduling a date to get cameras installed into the lower levels while he was at it.

Fury, who had watched him since he entered the room, frowned as he observed co-Director. He could see that Tony's movements were somewhat rigid his eyes never left the screen of his console for even a second.

He knew that behavior. It was the behavior of someone who had seen something that rattled them to the very core of their being and was now attempting to keep their mind far away from thoughts of what they had seen. He had seen it most during his time as a soldier, when new recruits would find themselves in a combat situation for the very first time. After their ordeal, and the shock of what they had seen had worn off, some of them set about trying to forget it, though they never could. Over the years, or sometimes days or weeks, they learned, just as he had, to overcome this reflex and carry on. He had been sent up photos of the two scenes by the photographers, so he knew what was affecting Stark so.

As the Director of an international division whose main goal was to stop threats to mankind wherever and however possible, he was forced to make a lot of tough and morally ambiguous decisions, and there had been quite a few times that he had considered stepping down, but he had come to realize that if he was to do so, he would regret it and, if something were to go wrong, he would not be able to forgive himself. He rationalized this by telling himself that what he did was for the greater good of the world, not just himself, and that if anything went wrong, it was on his head, not someone else's. He always took responsibility for his actions, and never received praise or thanks for what he did, and he never asked for any. He didn't do what he did for recognition or acclaim, he did it because he must. It was through this that he was able to look past the tragedies and horrors that circulated around him and his job and focus on what had to be done.

With this in mind, he spoke to Tony. "Are you alright, Stark?"

Tony did not look up from his console. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, considering that you just viewed seven of our men in various states of mutilation, I would think that you may be a bit bothered by it," Nick said, being careful to keep his voice even.

Tony shook his head briefly. "Nope. Not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

Fury sighed and turned fully from his console to face Tony. "Listen, Stark, don't lie to me. I can see that it's affected you. You aren't very good at hiding your emotions."

"So, what you're saying is that I still have a heart. You know, I have a plaque somewhere that Pepper had made for me that says just that." Tony stopped working on his console and finally turned his head to face Fury. "You know, after all the things we've been through, all the things we've done, you would think that it would get easier."

Fury shook his head. "It never does. If it did, we would no longer be human. It's how we deal with it that makes us strong. You and I, we are in a position that holds no room for error or personal feelings. Our morals hold no bearing in our line of work. Some would call us heartless, others would call us monsters. But the truth of the matter is this: while it may eat us up inside, what we do isn't for ourselves, it is for everyone else. We aren't heroes, we're just doing what has to be done, because no one else will."

Tony had remained uncharacteristically quiet while Fury talked, and was now nodding slightly. "Yeah, I know. I may be narcissistic and a bit selfish, but I'm not so selfish that I'd put myself before everyone else. Maybe in the past, but not now. When I took this job, I didn't think much of it. But, what I saw today made me realize that I now have an obligation to every one of those agents. It is my responsibility to lead them and get them out alive, to keep them safe while they do their jobs."

Fury nodded. "This is S.H.I.E.L.D., and while we may not belong to any branch of the military or armed forces, we _are_ soldiers, just a different breed."

Tony and Fury turned back to their respective consoles. "You missed the mark on one thing though, Nick." Fury looked over at him with a raised brow. "This did affect me, but not in the way you think. It didn't make me lose my focus, it merely strengthened my resolve to do what has to be done."

**XXXX**

_She stood in a large open room, darkness surrounded her on all sides and encroached on her with its suffocating presence. She spun in a circle, her eyes searching for any sort of detail to her surroundings, and found none. Her visibility was about twenty feet in all directions, but after that, it was all black._

_ "Where am I?" she asked herself, aloud. Her voice echoed slightly, bouncing back in on itself from unseen walls. "Is there anyone there?" Again her voice echoed, but she received no answers beyond the sound of her own voice._

_ She took a few steps forward, then turned in a circle once more, her feet still carrying her in the chosen direction as though they had a will of their own. She could feel herself beginning to panic as no matter how many steps she took, she did not seem to be going anywhere._

_ The floor beneath her feet remained featureless and plain, and no matter how far she moved, the darkness did not seem to become nearer or farther from her. "Hello?" The echoes of her voice sounded around her before dying out into silence. "Hello?!" Still no answer or even a sign that anyone but her was hearing her calls. The feeling of the darkness seemed to grow with every step she took, and her mind became less and less focused as the feeling of hysteria and panic began to set in. Finally, the echoes and the emptiness became near stifling and she could no longer stand the silence that permeated the air around her. "HELLO?!"_

_ Before the echoes had reached her, her shout was followed by a cry as the ground suddenly rushed up to meet her. She groaned and pushed herself up off the ground, her mind now clear of the cloud of fear that had settled over her just a few seconds before. She blinked rapidly for a second as her vision blurred, then cleared again almost immediately._

_ When she regained her feet, she found herself no longer in the same place that she had just been. Instead of a dark, plain, featureless room, she was now standing in the throne room of Asgard. However, like the previous room she had been in, it appeared as though she was still alone here._

_ In front of her sat the throne, empty atop its raised daïs. She scanned the area before her with her eyes, finding it to be devoid of all life. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the room at large, noting that the colors seemed somewhat muted compared to how she remembered them from the last time she had seen them, not that long ago._

_ When she turned back to the throne, she gave a start of surprise upon finding a shadowy figure seated upon it, appearing to be nothing more than a silhouette. On the floor at the figure's feet were several bodies. She looked between the figure and the bodies, then back again. The figure raised a hand and gestured for her to approach._

_ She walked slowly forward, against her own accord. Her feet took every step, despite her mind's protests to such action. She did not know who this figure was, and she did not trust it, therefore, she did not wish to go near it. But, her body had other ideas._

_ Slowly, she ascended the steps to the daïs and came to a halt at the top. She looked where the figure's eyes should have been, then down at the bodies. She wanted to cry out at what she saw, but her mouth did not open and she continued to stare at them calmly._

_ Odin, Frigga, Sif, Fandral, Volstagg and Heimdall all stared back at her with empty, hollow eyes, forever frozen in death. Again against her own accord, her eyes closed, and then reopened a second later. When they opened, she found her view to be different. Now, she was looking at the corpses of her friends and future family from her perch on the throne. She could also see herself standing over the bodies with a blank expression on her face. She blinked again and found herself back in her own body, and the shadowy figure was gone from the throne._

_ It was in that moment that a scream filled the air around her. While her mind cast about, trying to discern the origin of the scream, her body had a different action in mind and she was now making her way to the throne and taking a seat on it; all the while the screams continued._

_ When she had settled into the throne, she noticed that now the bodies were gone from the floor and the setting had changed again. She was now standing in front of a dying tree, that for some reason seemed familiar to her. The sky was grey and the bark of the tree had gone white, and its branches were void of leaves. A soft gust of wind kicked up around her and she felt herself shiver. Faintly, on the wind, she could hear the sound of whimpers, but her mind could not focus on it._

_ She turned her head toward the sound, but as soon as she did so, the wind stopped and the sound was lost. Without thought, she turned back to the tree, and her breast filled with horror at what she saw there. In the branches of the tree lay the broken bodies of those she had seen on the floor of the throne room, but, there was a new body among them. Hanging from a noose directly in front of her was Loki, his skin pale and blue and his neck bearing marks of struggle and rope burn. She wanted run forward to him and scream his name, but she remained so distressingly still and unfazed._

_ She approached the lightly swaying corpse of the man she loved and her hand reached out to touch him. As soon as fingers brushed the leather of his clothing, his eyes snapped open and his began to thrash about, strangled gasping sounds passed his lips as he fought for air passed the constriction of the rope that was blocking his airways. His eyes were wide and bloodshot and filled with fear and panic as his body began to shut down._

_ She gave a cry and stumbled back in fright at the sudden movement. Her eyes closed instinctively and a gust of wind kicked up yet again. This time, she could just make out the sound of sobbing._

_ When she opened her eyes, the wind ceased, and with it, the sounds, and Loki had fallen still once more. And while she remained in the same place, things had changed again. Gone were the bodies of Odin and Frigga and the Warriors Three and Sif, and in their place was a small bundle at the base of the tree._

_ She slowly approached, a sense of dread building up within her. She was careful not to touch Loki again as she passed him. She fell to her knees at the base of the tree and her hands stretched out to unfold the bundle._

_ She felt as though her heart had broken, in that moment. Her eyes beheld a small child, its skin pale and blue-tinted as Loki's had been. Its eyes were closed, as though it were merely sleeping. But she knew better. And she knew what she was looking at. It was her child. Her's and Loki's._

_ With trembling hands, she lifted the lifeless babe into her arms and held it to her breast. She held it as though it were the only thing tethering her to life, but with a tenderness that only a mother could manage. She cradled her child there, and she could feel her cheeks grow wet with tears._

_ Then, the sound of a rope straining was heard and the wind had kicked up again as Loki's body began to thrash about behind her. A tearful, broken scream filled the silence and her eyes drifted closed once more. The last thing she saw was the infant in her arms begin to rot and decay._

**XXXX**

Natasha sat bolt upright in her bed, her mouth still open in a wordless scream and tears flowing freely down her face as the images from her nightmare still lingered in her mind's eye. Without thinking, she turned to her side, seeking out the warm form that rested beside her. What she found, however, was an empty space where Loki would normally be.

Her frazzled mind filled with confusion as she look around the room for any sign of him. Her confusion mounted when she realized that she was not in her and Loki's room on Asgard.

Then, through the fabricated visions of her nightmare, the events of the previous day came rushing back to her and she began to sob as her dream was replaced with horrible reality. She curled herself up into a ball on her bed and let herself cry, there in the darkness behind a locked door where no one else could see her.

For what seemed like hours, she laid there, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs and her eyes burning from the salt of her tears. On top of this, her throat was raw and dry from having been screaming in her sleep. She felt pitiful and weak in those moments, her mask nowhere to be found and all of her emotions laid bare for the world to see; only there was no one there but her, and that was part of the reason for her despair. During her time on Asgard, she had had a few nightmares that had left her shaken and in a cold sweat, but Loki had always been there to comfort her and hold her as she drifted back to sleep. Now, she was alone.

Finally, her tears ran dry and she could stand to lay there no longer. She forced her body to uncurl and she rolled over to the edge of the bed. Her feet came down to the soft carpeted floor and she padded soundlessly and slowly to the adjoining bathroom. Looking at herself in the mirror, she sighed, seeing her face red and blotchy from her crying. With a shrug, she stripped down to her bare skin and made her way to the shower.

The water was warm and served to soothe and cleanse her body and wash away the stains of her despair. The sound of the water spraying down on and around her provided the perfect ambience for her to relax and clear her head.

When she finally exited the bathroom, she felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She still felt the weight of her sadness, but it did not cloud her mind now. She carried herself with a calm determination as she dressed in her black, Kevlar body-suit and made her way out of her room. She looked down at herself and sighed, knowing that soon enough she would no longer able to fit into her outfit.

Pushing that thought from her mind, she set her thoughts toward what lay ahead.

As she came to the lobby of Stark Tower, she was surprised to see Thor standing with a small group of people with a large grin on his face. Upon closer inspection, she quickly deduced the reason. Erik Selvig, Darcy and Jane Foster, Thor closest friends here on Midgard.

She approached them at a casual pace. Selvig was the first to notice her approach and nodded to her. "Well, now that we're all here, we can get going." He clapped his hands. "Come on, Fury isn't a patient man."

Thor chuckled at this, but followed along without protest. Jane, who was walking at his side, her hands wrapped around his large, muscular arm, looked around them quizzically. "Where's Loki?" At her words, Both Thor and Natasha's faces took on a grave expression. She quickly seemed to realize that something was wrong, seeing as she had not been told anything prior to coming here to greet Thor.

Selvig sighed, having been informed of the situation after inquiring as to why Thor and Natasha would be there without the Trickster, and ushered them along. "Come on. Fury will explain everything once we are back at Headquarters."

That was the last word that was spoken from that time until they arrived, via car, at the hidden S.H.I.E.L.D. bunker. They all climbed out of the car and made their way into the facility, undergoing the required security checks at the main entrance, then making their way to the Control Room, where Fury, Tony, Bruce, Steve and Clint were already waiting for them.

Upon her entrance, Clint made his way over to her and wrapped her in a warm embrace, one that she returned after a moment of hesitation. "It's good to see you again, Clint," she told him as she broke their embrace.

Clint nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah. If only it were under better circumstances."

Natasha's eyes lowered momentarily, then came back up to meet his with solid determination. "Yeah."

Clint reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder in a supportive gesture. "We'll set this right, Nat."

Natasha nodded again, grateful for his reassurance and support.

Fury and Tony had stepped down from their daïs and were now standing at the back of the control room, where a large circular table was situated. It was the same table where they had had many of their mission briefings and meetings with the Asgardians during their time there while Thanos was still at large, and in front of each seat around it, there was a small console screen imbedded into the table itself.

They all took their seats around the table, Natasha situated between Thor and Clint, with Tony sitting directly across from her, with Bruce on one side of him and Steve on the other. Jane was sitting on the other side of Thor, with Selvig next to her, then Fury, who had Bruce on his other side. On the far side of Clint was Hill, then Darcy, with Steve on her other side, but with four empty chairs between them.

Fury placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands in front of him. "We will get started as soon as our final arrivals get here."

As if on cue, the door to the control room hissed open and a woman dressed in a tight, red leather outfit and flowing dark hair entered. She made her way straight to the table and took a seat beside Darcy. "Sorry, I'm late."

Fury dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "For those of you who have not met, this is Elektra Natchios, a mercenary under our employ."

Natasha eyed the woman skeptically, but kept her mouth closed. There was an aura of superiority around her that she did not like, but she would not Fury's motives; he was not usually wrong.

Another hiss of the door drew their attention. They turned just in time to see a man in a pair of worn jeans and a leather jacket enter the room. His hair was windswept and his beard somewhat untrimmed, but no more than usual.

Logan strode over to them with a bit of a scowl on his face, though he nodded to Natasha and a few others at the table before going to the seat next to Steve. Before he sat down though, his nostrils flared as he took a breath, then he paused and took a couple rapid sniffs. His eyes narrowed and turned to Natasha, gazing at her with a knowing expression. He then glanced around the room, looking for something. When he did not seem to find it, he looked back at Natasha with a curious gleam in his eyes as they drifted down to her still-flat belly. A few seconds passed and he shrugged, lowering himself into his chair. "Quite the little gathering you've got going on here, Nick," Logan said, taking in all of the faces around him. "What's the occasion?"

"Logan, glad you could make it," Fury returned, humorlessly.

Logan shrugged again in a dismissive manner and rephrased his question. "So, what's this situation that you mentioned?"

Fury looked toward the door. "We'll get to that, as soon as everyone's here." His eye drifted to the two empty chairs across from him.

Clint looked over at the two chairs and frowned. "Who are we still waiting for?"

Fury did not answer this question. Tony took it as his place to fill the silence. "Well, Phil isn't here yet, so-"

"Phil?" Steve asked. "You've called Coulson off of his mission?"

Fury nodded. "We have. This takes priority."

Silence fell over the room, save for the ambience of the agents working at various computers and consoles on the other side of the room. For many long minutes, no one spoke a word, and the silence was somewhat uncomfortable as everyone was impatient for answers to why they were there and what was going on, or, in Natasha and Thor's case, what they were going to do about it.

It didn't take long for boredom to set in and Tony started spinning his chair around aimlessly. "Maybe we should just start. We fill Phil in when he gets here." A thought seemed to occur to him after he spoke and he stopped his spinning chair. "I think that was a pun." He seemed to think about it for a moment longer, before shrugging and continuing his restless spinning.

Fury reached up to rub the bridge of his nose in exasperation at Stark's antics. A sigh escaped his lips as Tony stood up from his chair and began to pace around the table. Logan shook his head in slight amusement, and Elektra looked mildly annoyed. The rest of them were used to Tony's behavior and thus were unfazed by it.

Logan was now looking all around the table and surrounding area, as though searching for something or someone. He turned to Natasha. "Where's your boyfriend at?"

Natasha turned her eyes on him, and while her face was carefully blank, her eyes were a storm of emotions that were barely held in check by pure resolve. But, before she could answer, Fury did so instead. "That is part of the reason we are here, Logan. When everyone is here, we will discuss that."

Logan frowned, but nodded.

After what seemed like forever, the door to the Control Room hissed open again and everyone turned hopefully toward the newcomers.

In the doorway stood Phil Coulson and a young African-American man wearing military fatigues. Upon their entrance, Fury stood from his chair and ushered them over to the table. "Welcome back, Coulson. No trouble?"

Coulson came to a stop behind the empty chair beside Elektra. "None, sir."

The young man with Coulson looked around the table with widened eyes, but took a seat when Coulson indicated for him to do so. Before Coulson could sit though, Tony had already made a circuit of the table and shook Coulson hand in a friendly greeting. He then made his way back to his seat, giving the young man a welcoming pat on the shoulder as he passed.

Fury had yet to take his seat and gestured toward the newcomer. "Those of you who do not know, this is Staff Sergeant Marcus Johnson of 2nd Battalion, United States Army Rangers." murmured greetings were given all around the table and Marcus nodded to each of them in turn. "I've extended a special invitation into the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D. to him, if he should wish it."

Fury retook his seat and Tony stood back up. "Let's get right down to business, shall we?" Everyone sat up straighter in their chairs as he said this. "As of yesterday, Asgard is now under hostile control. I know that some of you are wondering how the hell this happened _again_ so soon, but the honest truth is that we don't know the whole story." He looked over at Thor and Natasha. "Fortunately, two of our friends and allies were able to escape and make it here to inform us of the danger. Thor, you have the floor."

Thor nodded and stood up as Tony retook his seat. "At midday, yesterday, Agent Romanoff, my brother Loki and myself were preparing to depart from Asgard to here. Before we could though, we were set upon by a small group of insurgents led by a man called Johann, and my brother Tyr. They incapacitated my father and other members of my family using some strange technology," as he said this, Tony pulled out a small ring of metal and laid it on the table in front of him, "Natasha and I were able to get away, but Loki was taken by the enemy while guarding our backs."

Tony took over again after Thor had finished his brief rendition of what had taken place on Asgard. "Now, the leader of this group, as we have come to discover, is none other than Johann Schmidt, former head of the Nazi deep science division known as HYDRA. Now, I'm not talking about the newer little group of misfits that we've been dealing with down here lately. No, I'm talking the real deal. The original HYDRA. Now, Schmidt, or the Red Skull, as he was known, was perhaps the most feared man of World War II, and was believed to have been killed in a fight against our own Captain Rogers." He gestured to Steve, who nodded. "Well, we know now that this is not the case. He somehow survived the fight and was transported, via Tesseract, to Asgard, where he was healed and granted godhood. Now, he has proclaimed himself as King of Asgard and we believe he is planning on trying to conquer us next."

Clint frowned and leaned forward a bit in his seat. "What makes you think that?"

Tony opened his mouth, then hesitated. Fury, seeing this, narrowed his eye, but did not step in. After a quick breath, Tony started talking. "Yesterday evening, we detected a second anomaly with readings on the same scale as the Bifrost. Naturally, we investigated. By the time Cap and our teams arrived, whoever had arrived was gone. But, thanks to Cap's quick thinking, we were able to get this video."

Everyone looked down at their screen and a enhanced version of the video that Tony, Fury and Steve had viewed the day before.

"As you can see," Fury said, taking over for Tony, "Two individuals, whom we have identified as Schmidt and Tyr, have landed on Earth. This morning, we discovered that our lower levels had been infiltrated, and several of our agents killed. We believed that this was the work of Schmidt, as all that they stole from the Archives was information on HYDRA, both old and new incarnations, as well as one of the HYDRA weapons we had in storage."

Coulson, Natasha and Clint all frowned, wondering how anyone could have gotten in without tripping an alarm. It was Logan who voiced this. "How the hell did they managed that? You've got this place rigged up with so many different security systems that I can't take two steps without setting off some random alarm because of my bones. Getting through the airport with my claws out would be easier than getting in here."

Fury gave a consenting nod. "A stupid mistake. It is being rectified as we speak."

"So," Natasha asked, "What are we going to do?"

Fury sighed and lowered himself into his chair. "We gather our strength and plan for the next move."

Tony nodded and began to tap his fingers in the tabletop in a strange pattern. "We can assume that since he stole all of the information on the modern HYDRA, he may be seeking out allies here on Earth." He typed something into his console and a hologram of a map of the eastern coast of the United States appeared over the table. "Ever since the break-out at the Vault, we've been planning an assault on von Strucker's base, here," a small red dot appeared on the map just off the coast of Maine, on an island in the Atlantic Ocean. "It serves to purpose that this is where Schmidt will go. We gather and organize our forces, then we move in and strike. If we do this right, we can take Schmidt there and nip this problem in the bud."

"But, if Schmidt has the files, then he already knows that we know where von Strucker's base is. Schmidt has a great military mind, I don't think he will stay there very long." Bruce said, speaking for the first time since the meeting had begun.

Tony nodded grimly. "We'll just have to hope we get there before he leaves. It'll take a few days for us to organize an assault, but, with some luck, we'll pull it off and leave this bastard in the past, where he belongs."

**XXXX**

Night had fallen over the northeastern United States and a strong sea wind lashed against the walls of a tall, multi-storied mansion that was the island home of Baron Wolfgang von Strucker, current head of HYDRA. The windows rattled with every powerful gust and few of the residents dared to step outside out of wariness of the coming storm. One who did not fear this, and strode bravely and unhesitantly forward, was the man known as Tomi Shishido, or more commonly as the Gorgon.

He, having just returned to the island after a short but fruitful trip to the mainland, walked with an unnatural grace through the increasing strength of the winds that buffeted the small island, his long black hair whipping out behind him as he moved. He had a long katana grasped in his left hand, ready to be drawn at any second should the need arise.

Word traveled fast through the underground networks of paid informants, and getting information on S.H.I.E.L.D. was a walk in the park for someone with the cash to pay for it. S.H.I.E.L.D. had no shortage of enemies and there was always someone looking to sell what information they had for a quick buck. That was not how the Gorgon played, however. Unfortunately, after divulging what information he had, the informant had met an untimely end when he had ventured too close to the Gorgon's blade and lost his head. Dead men tell no tales, and that particular one would not be telling anyone else about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s very recent influx of allies or their sudden high-alert status.

As he came to the gate that blocked his passage into the grounds of the mansion, he stopped and gazed up at the silent majesty of the structure. With a soft grunt, he turned his eyes from the inviting view and pressed a button on an intercom placed into the wall beside the gate. "Open the gate," he hissed into the microphone.

A camera situated above the gate turned toward him and he glared up at it from behind his dark shades. A moment later, a quiet beep was heard and the gate began to slide open. Still glaring up at the camera, he stepped through the opening and started toward the front doors of the mansion.

Two HYDRA soldiers, armed with assault rifles, stood on either side of the double doors that made up the main entrance to the mansion. Upon his approach, they snapped to attention. Gorgon ignored them as he pushed open the doors and went inside without bothering to knock. He cast a quick glance to each side, seeing two more soldiers in position just inside the doors. They too stood at attention at his passing.

His eyes held disdain for them, though none could see them, but his face remained an emotionlessly blank slate. He was tempted to remove his shades and turn the full power of his gaze upon them, but refrained from such senseless action; it served no purpose and was nothing more than posturing. They knew he was dangerous, and he had proven it on several occasions, he did not require a pointless show of strength to bolster his ego.

He made his way up the main staircase of the mansion and continued up to the third floor, where he knew that von Strucker and his followers would be gathered. They were nothing if not predictable. He did not care for them, nor did he respect the men all that much either. No. It could be said that the Gorgon did not serve the Baron, but rather that he served HYDRA. Wolfgang von Strucker was the current head of HYDRA, and so the Gorgon followed his orders, but he held no loyalty to the man himself. If someone were to overthrow the Baron, he would serve them, for he served not the individual, but the HYDRA itself.

Just as he had figured, he found the Baron and the others all gathered in the third floor study, each either sitting in the soft, cushioned, high-backed chairs or standing about with their heads held high and an air of superiority surrounding them. The Baron himself was in an almost throne-like chair that was situated behind an old but sturdy and elegant mahogany desk near the fireplace with a large window behind him. The window was rattling slightly, but not as much as it would have been if it were on the other side of the house, the wind not striking it with as much force as it was the opposite side of the mansion. Thick emerald curtains were pulled over the window, blocking the dismal sight of the storm brewing outside from their view, though every few minutes or so a flash of lightning would light up the edges of the curtains. Along the walls were several bookshelves that were filled to the brim with various tomes, both modern and classic, fiction and nonfiction. Above the fireplace hung a painting, a relic from the day of the Third Reich and the original HYDRA. It was a painting. A masterpiece hand-painted for the Red Skull, Johann Schmidt himself. The painting was of his likeness, and stood as a reminder of where their organization had their roots, of who was the first to lead them. It had been saved from the ruins of Schmidt's mountain base after it was ransacked by the combined forces of Captain America, the SSR, and the Howling Commandoes during that fateful day that saw the end of Schmidt and the failing of his plan to destroy the capitals of all of the major powers in the world in a single stroke.

Gorgon stepped into the room with a silence of a shadow, none noticing him until he was already in the center of the room, and their attention was only drawn away from whatever had occupied them by the sound of a particularly loud roll of thunder. The Gorgon had to resist a smirk at the thought that these were some of the most feared men on the planet and they were all startled by such a harmless thing like thunder.

Many of those present were looking as if they had seen a ghost. In their eyes, he had simply appeared out of nowhere. Not one of them had detected his approach, nor his arrival, and this scared them. Only the Baron remained outwardly calm in the face of what he considered to be his most loyal subject, but if one looked close enough, there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Baron Wolfgang von Strucker was an aging man with a bald head and sharp blue eyes, but the left one was covered by a monocle. His face was heavily scarred. He was tall, and well built for someone his age, broad-shouldered and, most importantly, intelligent. Hailing from Bavaria, he was a high-ranking member of the original HYDRA during World War II, and due to some unknown circumstances, had contracted a rare strain of virus known as the Deathspore virus, which should have killed him, but rather than do so, it merely mutated his body, stunting his aging. He was now stuck at an apparent age of being in his fifties, but the clock was very slowly creeping forward and he was aging at an extremely sedate pace.

The Baron looked up at the Gorgon and gave a thin smile. "So, my friend, what news do you bring for us?" His voice was low and somewhat gravelly, but it was cultured and clear as well and it made clear that he was not a man who took things lightly.

This was one thing that the Gorgon believed that the two of them shared. They were no-nonsense, and when they spoke, others listened and obeyed.

Tomi shifted so that his feet were spaced perfectly at shoulder width and his hands clasped his katana behind his back, both hands gripping the sheath with sword positioned vertically parallel to his straight back. "Several individuals of note have gathered at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York base in the last twenty-four hours. Among them are the man known as Wolverine and the assassin Elektra Natchios. In addition, the Avenger known as Thor had returned along with the recently unaccounted for Black Widow. Information on their motives is sketchy at best, but most believe that they are preparing for an assault on us."

The Baron nodded his head in a gesture of understanding. "Well, we knew that they would make a move against us at some point, and it warrants understanding that they would gather together their best for such an effort."

Heinrich Zemo, the second-in-command of HYDRA stepped forward from his place by the fire. "Perhaps it is time we relocate to a more secure location for the foreseeable future, Wolfgang."

von Strucker nodded his head to his hooded comrade and folded his hands under his chin in a pensive manner. "Perhaps you may be right." The two held a deeper sense of comradery than the rest of the group, having both served under the Nazi regime back during the second great war. Unlike Wolfgang, who's slowed aging was due to a mutated virus, Zemo's was the result of experimentation by HYDRA scientist; his aging was slowed nearly to a halt and he retained all of the vitality and strength of his youth.

"Why?" asked Werner von Strucker, Wolfgang's only surviving son. He had his father's blue eyes and had blonde hair trimmed short in a military-esque style. "We have nothing to fear, they are no match for the might of our soldiers."

Though he remained outwardly unmoved, the Gorgon rolled his eyes behind his shades at the younger von Strucker's lack of understanding of the balance of power between HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D.. The Gorgon knew that their soldiers would be nothing more than cannon fodder for the well-trained and better-armed agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., and while he himself and perhaps the Baron and Zemo could hold their own against the Avengers, for a while at least, but the rest of them would be like lambs to the slaughter.

"HYDRA's might may have grown in the past few weeks, but do not underestimate our enemy. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents are well-trained and highly skilled, and more than a match for our men, though we outmatch them in numbers at the moment. And the Avengers are not to be taken lightly. We have seen the evidence of their strength and teamwork in the past, or did you forget that our planet has twice been invaded by alien lifeforms and both times they were repelled and by the Avengers."

Werner, lowered his head and glared at the floor, unable to meet his father's disapproving eyes and yet still impertinent enough to wear a look of almost childish anger in the face of his mistake. _**No**__,_ Gorgon figured, silently, _**he would not last long at all**__._

Any further conversation was interrupted by the sound of gunfire from the landing outside the study, followed closely by the sound of a scuffle. Baron von Strucker stood up behind his desk and Zemo tensed, waiting for an attack. The rest of the men in the room tensed as well.

The Gorgon spun on the spot, his katana coming free of its sheath in a single fluid movement that was almost too quick for the human eye to follow. He took a fighting stance as he waited for either a soldier to tell them that all was clear and then explain what had happened, or for a foe to step through the door so that he may cut them down.

What happened was neither. Instead, the sound outside died down and then there was a series of three polite knocks upon the door. The Baron motioned for the man standing nearest to the door, which happened to be a recent addition to their ranks, a man named Justin Hammer. Hammer did so, slowly, almost skittishly.

As soon as the door opened, Gorgon took in the details of who was on the other side. A man, looking to be in his thirties, with blue eyes and brown hair, wearing a black leather suit that somewhat resembled an old Nazi SS uniform, but sleeker, and bearing a symbol that was not a swastika on the arms. Upon closer inspection, he discovered it to be the HYDRA symbol of the tentacled skull, only red. The modern version of the symbol was green, not red, and only one man had ever worn the red skull on his uniform, as far as he knew. He glanced up at the painting above the fireplace, then at the Baron, then back to the man in the doorway. After a short moment that lasted less than a second, he relaxed out of his battle stance and sheathed his sword.

The man entered the room, his hands clasped behind his back, and glanced about, his face bearing a smirk. Several of those in the room took a couple of steps back from him. A couple of seconds later, another man entered the room, this one larger and taller, with long black hair pulled into dual braids and wearing armor, and a large battle-axe in his hand. Those that had moved away, did so again, trying to put as much distance between them and the two new entrants as possible without looking like cowards. The only two, other than the Gorgon himself, that had not moved an inch were Zemo and the Baron. In fact, these last were now the ones who looked as though they had seen a ghost.

The man in the black uniform spoke, his voice, like the Baron's, was low and cultured, with a hint of an accent, it also told of strength and intelligence, and of power. "Wolfgang, how are you? I must say, you are looking quite well. I would have figured that you would be dead by now, but you always were one of the tougher ones, weren't you?"

The Baron walked out from behind his desk and approached the man, Zemo right behind him. "Johann? But...how?"

The man, Johann, smirked even more. "That, _mein Freund_, is a long story."

Baron von Strucker nodded. "I would like to hear it one day. So...,what brings you here Johann?"

Johann stepped passed the Baron and withdrew his hands from behind his back and dropped a file-folder onto the desk. "I have come to reclaim by position as head of HYDRA." He looked over at the Baron. "Which, I assume is now your title."

The Baron shook his head in the negative. He was no fool, he knew that he had two options in this situation: either step down willingly or face the Red Skull in single combat for the position as the head of HYDRA. Before his injection with Erskine's formula, he may have been able to take down Schmidt, but with the formula flowing through his veins, he stood no chance of victory; not even Captain America had been able to kill the man. He gave a small bow. "_Nein_. It is yours."

Johann nodded to his old comrade. "_Danke_. A wise choice, my old friend."

"Father!" Werner von Strucker said in affront. "Why do you give in so easily?! This man is no one! He should bow to you, not the other way around!"

Johann looked at the younger von Strucker and then at Wolfgang. "Who is this fool that dares to speak to us in such a disrespectful manner, Wolfgang?"

The Baron was glaring at his son. "He is my son, Werner. Forgive me, Johann, he does not know his place."

Johann nodded. "The sins of the son are not that of the father, Wolfgang. You have nothing for me to forgive you for." He approached the man, Werner. "Do you know who I am, boy?" Werner shook his head. "I am your master." He reached out and grabbed Werner around the neck and held him in a steel-like grip, keeping him from moving away from him. "I am Johann Schmidt." He began to squeeze. "I am the man who created HYDRA." He squeezed harder, Werner's eyes going wide and his hands coming up to try and pry away the vice-like grip of Johann's hand. "I am the Red Skull!"

With a final squeeze, he released the younger von Strucker and let him collapse to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath, his face slowly turning from deep red back to its normal hue.

"Let those who would serve, step forward. And those who would not," he looked to the Gorgon, "let them face the sword."

The Gorgon let his lips twitch upward at the thought of cutting down any of the imbeciles present. His gaze fell on Werner, who was still down on his knees, rubbing his throat.

Johann met each of them in the eyes, gauging their responses. Werner stood up, his face defiant. "I will not serve you! My father is the rightful leader of HYDRA, and you are nothing more than a usurper!"

Johann tilted his head to look at Wolfgang, who met his gaze for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. Johann turned to the Gorgon and nodded his head. The Gorgon smiled.

With deliberate leisure, he unsheathed his katana and stepped toward the younger von Strucker. Werner's eyes widened in fear and he began to stumble backwards away from him. "F-father! Father, do something! Stop this!" With every word, the Gorgon drew nearer and nearer. Finally, Werner's back collided with a bookshelf and he could retreat no further. The Gorgon readied his blade and raised it to strike. "FATHER!"

His scream was cut short as the Gorgon's blade descended and sliced him from shoulder to waist. Werner fell back into the bookshelf, then stumbled forward. The Gorgon sidestepped him, then slashed him across the back, sending him to his knees.

Werner looked down at his bleeding chest in horror. His hands came up to touch it, shaking violently. He let out a whimper as his fingers came in contact with the slashed skin. Then, he stilled, feeling the cold steel of the Gorgon's blade across the back of his neck. Not realizing what he was doing, Werner tilted his head forward to give his better access. The Gorgon looked once more to Johann, who did the same to Wolfgang, giving him one last chance to spare his son's life. When Wolfgang remained silent, Johann nodded to the Gorgon. Tomi shifted his stance and raised his sword above his head.

Werner lifted his head slightly, so that he was looking at his father. "Hail...Hydra." The blade came down and, in a single cut, separated Werner von Strucker's head from his shoulders.

The Gorgon straightened up and turned to face the man known as the Red Skull. He bowed his head to him, then raised it up to look his new leader in the eyes.

"Hail Hydra!"

**XXXX**

**A/N: Another chapter down! And, I do believe that this is the longest chapter yet. Well, as always: Review, but do not flame. Reviews help me write, and let me know if I am doing good work here. So, let me know! For anyone wondering, Loki will be back in the next chapter, and he is the primary focus of it.**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**

**P.S.: A little information about what is to come. As far as I am concerned, this story will be much broader in scale than REDEMPTION was, but no less focused on the characters. To me, this is a war story. Now, I don't plan to write out every detail or action taken by both sides, as that would be boring and overly long, but I do intend to show that in a war the action and interactions aren't just experienced by the lead characters, but everyone involved. There will be more points-of-view in the later chapters as characters come and go (this is war, so casualties are expected), but they won't be just random characters, so don't worry about that, or OCs, there are none of those. Natasha and Loki are still the main characters of this story, DO NOT WORRY!**

**Expected POVs: Loki, Natasha, Tony, Clint, Johann, Amora, The Gorgon, Bullseye, Frank Castle, Logan, Rhodes, Heimdall, Nick Fury, Coulson, Maria Hill.**

**Thank you.**


	10. Jotun

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.**

**A/N: Alright, welcome to the new chapter. Thank you to all that reviewed the previous chapter, it means a lot to hear from you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I am contemplating changing the rating of this fic back to 'T', so that is may reach more people, as some people avoid 'M' fics due to some of them being nothing but pure smut or just poorly written. I don't know. What do you think? Anyway, without further ado, onward to the story!**

**NOTE: I am working under the assumption that Asgard is not free of sexism and thus not everyone will be thrilled that Johann left Amora in charge while and Tyr went to Earth.**

**RESISTANCE**

**by**

**I Am Atrocity**

**Chapter X: Jotun**

**'Shakes the ground in agony, the Lord of Lies, once for every drop of venom in his eyes. Anger festers in his heart and loud he cries "My revenge will be the end and you will see me rise out of fact and fiction. Sacrifice... Raise your hands for my lore and legend, of these lands".**

**-Lord of Lies, by Tyr.**

Sweat dripped, slow and unhindered, down his face to fall into an ever drying pool upon the hard stones below him. He had not had much occasion to experience such effect upon his body. His Jotun blood cooled his body in such a way that only the presence of extreme heat could cause the perspiration to seep out from beneath the skin. But, now, with this magic held tightly within him, and all other drained away, he was now subjected to it. He could not remember having felt this before or since the battle against Surtur.

His nostrils flared as he breathed in deep, a soft wheeze reaching his ears as he did so, he then held the air within his lungs for the count of three, his lungs burning from the effort to keep the air inside as his damaged ribs screamed in protest and he winced in agony, then his lips parted to released the same breath a moment later. A short second later, he repeated this process. Regulating his breathing had done wonders to help his control in keeping his Jotun magic from spilling forth to be drained by the vampiric shackles around his wrists, but his body was still weakening and his condition worsening since his beating from Tyr.

While keeping half of his attention on his breathing and his magic, the other half was listening for anything that might tell him that the time had come for him to break free of his bonds and escape from his current place in hell. So far, no sort of sign had revealed itself to him and he had heard nothing to indicate that there was an oppurtunity for freedom.

Up and down the row, he could hear the sounds of the other prisoners in their cells, their labored breathing, the sound of their clothes and armor on the stone as they moved about sluggishly. Every once in a while, he could hear one of them cry out, though he never knew the reason why and could only speculate that they would drift into unconsciousness and did not like what they saw in the images that their minds conjured into existence during that time.

He did not know how long he had been locked away in his cell. He speculated that it had not been very long at all, perhaps a day or two, but the lack of activity caused the minutes and hours to blur together, thus preventing him from properly keeping track of how much time had passed. To him, it seemed almost as years, but he knew better.

Regularly, every couple of hours or so, the guards would patrol the row, glancing within each cell as they passed, then turn about once they reached the far end, then march back the way they had come, repeating the process. They never spoke to the him or any of the others, though they did speak to each other when not on patrol, he listened to these conversations as their voices carried down the row, bouncing off the walls, and on the few occasions that he had opened his eyes to look at them as they passed, their faces revealed only pity. Pity was not something he wanted; he had no use for it. Pity would not get him out of this cell and pity would not dispel the traitors that had taken over his home. The mere thought of their faces arranged into such an expression when they gazed upon him sent a flare of rage through his breast. His lip began to curl up and his teeth bared in a silent snarl as he thought of them and the image from his memory flashed through his mind.

With a ragged sigh, he pushed his ire down and forced his body to relax; as much as possible, at least, which was not much. The shackles had accelerated the speed of the onset of exhaustion and his body was now stiff from kneeling on the stone floor for so long a time without moving. If he so much as shifted his weight, a jolt of pain would shoot through his legs and cause him to grit his teeth to keep from exclaiming aloud.

At the moment, the guards were not on patrol, and his ears were strained to pick up the words in their conversation, wondering when or even if he would hear something that would tell him that it was time to break free.

"Do you know why Johann let Heimdall out?" the first guard asked, a bit of confusion coloring his tone.

"No. He did not say anything about it either," the second guard answered, just as confused. "He is back at the Bifrost though, and that beast Skurge is out there keeping an eye on him."

"Skurge? Why?"

"Honestly, I do not know. Though I heard Einar say that he heard Johann tell him to keep an eye on it while he was gone down to Midgard."

The first guard grumbled something that Loki his not catch, but he resumed at his usual volume a second later. "...And, he left the Enchantress in charge while he is away. I do not know about you, but I will not be taking orders from a magic-user, especially a woman."

"Aye," the second guard agreed. "Which is just as well that he put Skurge in charge over us guards. We report to him, not her. I understand that Prince Tyr went with him, but why he would not place Skurge as steward in his stead instead of that damned Enchantress, I can not guess."

Loki, a bit disgusted by their blatant disrespect and prejudice against women, blocked out the rest of their conversation and focused all of his attention inward. He had heard enough. If his understanding of their words was correct, then Johann and Tyr had departed from Asgard and left Amora and Skurge behind; and Skurge was down at the Bifrost with Heimdall, whom he assumed had been released to operate the bridge for Johann. The time, it seemed, had come to him to make his move.

He managed a tired smile as his Jotun magic pulsed inside of him. He released his hold on it and sent it all straight to the shackles, pushing it out of him body before it could be absorbed by the cuffs. A thick layer of ice formed around his wrists, encompassing the cuffs, freezing them.

Gathering what strength he could, he struggled to his feet, his entire body protesting in agony as his damaged ribs strained against the movement and his stiff muscles seized. He stumbled, but managed to swing one of his arms at the wall with some amount of force. Upon impact, the ice cracked. He leaned against the wall, in pain, but ignored it and slammed his wrist against the wall once more, and this time the ice shattered, taking the now fragmented shackle with it. A small, almost delirious grin spread across his face and he repeated the same action with the other wrist. It took three hits this time, but finally, the second shackle fell away as well.

Freed from the leech-effect of the cuffs, he Jotun magic flowed through him freely. He looked down at his hands to find that they had turned a deep blue in color, and he assumed that his eyes had gone red. As if it knew his purpose, his magic set about healing the damage inflicted on him by his foster-brother. One by one, his ribs shifted and snapped back into place, the pain of this forcing a grunt to escape his lips.

Finally, he could feel some of his strength returning. A true smile lit up his face as he was able to move without feeling weak or slow. While he was running off of Jotun magic alone, he did not feel any different than usual; the only difference was his outward appearance.

His head snapped up at the sound of approaching footsteps and he immediately returned to his previous position of kneeling in the center of his cell. His muscles tensed in preparation for what was to come and he evened his breathing out in anticipation. The clinking of armor and the clicking of boot heels drew ever nearer to his cell and he flexed his fingers, feeling the ice already forming there on his fingertips.

Finally the sound was just outside and he knew that the guard had glance inside and made to move on, but he must have seen something there in the dark to catch his attention and the steady cadence of their footsteps was disturbed by one of them coming to a stop and stepping back.

Loki opened his now-red eyes and turned them up to meet the guard's. Upon seeing the two slightly glowing blood-colored eyes staring up at him, the guard's own eyes widened and he stumbled back just as Loki sprung into action, launching himself at the door with enough force to take it down, hinges and all. Killer instinct took over his mind and, in mid-air, he adjusted so that his hands and feet impacted first and the door broke free of the wall, the hinges ripping themselves out of the stone that held them in place, and the heavy iron fell out into the row, crushing the unfortunate guard beneath it and Loki's combined weight. Faintly, he heard a muffled cry, followed by the crunch of crushed bones.

The second guard stood frozen in place, his eyes wide in shock. Before he could react to what was happening, Loki had turned on him and bolted toward him, a spike of ice forming in his palm. A split second later, the ice was embedded in the guard's chest, followed by a second spike piercing the chin from below and up into the brain. The spike detached from Loki's hand and the guard fell to the ground, unmoving, lifeless, dead.

Loki straightened up, his face set in a vicious snarl, his eyes glowing with raging fire. He turned around and began marching down the row, his mind-set on dealing out death and destruction to those that had dared to try to take away everything that he held dear to his heart. So set on this task was he, that he ignored all others in the row, not once glancing at the other cells as he stalked toward the exit. With each step he took, he left a trail of ice forming on the stones behind him as his Jotun magic pulsed and flowed through him, surrounding him with a thin mist of icy air that gave off steam in the warm air in the room.

When he came to the door of the dungeon, he found it to be locked. Without hesitation, he placed his hand flat against the surface, palm down, and ice began to spread over it. Then, he withdrew his hand and clenched it into a fist. His fist struck forth as quick as lightning and the door splintered into pieces in front of him.

He strode forward once more, up the stairs and out into the palace corridor that lead to the throne room. He set off in the direction of the throne room, still leaving an ever-growing trail of ice in his wake. It spread across the floor and up onto the walls like fire through a dry field in the height of summer.

The door to the throne room was unlocked, but merely smashed it out of his way and strode through unhindered. Upon his entrance, his eyes scanned the room, only to find it empty, save for himself and a handful of guards. The throne stood vacant.

The guards all turned their heads toward him, having heard the loud crash as he had smashed open the door, their hands tightening on their weapons. Loki stared back at them, his blood-colored eyes bright and menacing, contrasting sharply with the deep blue of his skin. As soon as it registered in the guards' minds that there was a Frost Giant, albeit a short one compared to the others, standing in the throne room, they shifted into defensive stances and began to advance on him.

Loki's stance did not change, but he began to form ice spikes in each of his hands and the sheet of ice around his feet extended outward, spreading across the floor, making the floor slicker and forcing the guards to approach with more caution than they had previously.

As the first guard stepped onto the ice, Loki snapped into action, swinging his arm in a slashing motion, letting the spike fly. It made contact with the guard and buried itself into the exposed flesh at his throat. The guard seemed surprised, then crumbled to the ground with a grunt, his armor clattering against the ice beneath him.

Loki turned to the others and gathered his Jotun magic into his hands, then extended it to the ice all around him. It was a strange feeling, as though he had become one with the ice. He could feel every tiny crystal of ice as though it were part of himself. His head snapped to the side as another guard made contact with the ice. With a flick of his wrist, a large shard of ice shot up from the ground and impaled the guard through the middle. He turned on his heel and let his second spike fly, striking the third guard between the eyes, dropping him effortlessly. Only five guards remained, closing in on him in a wide half-circle.

Loki's fingers bent inward, almost as if he had talons or claws, and he turned his palms up toward the ceiling. Around him, the ice began to shift. Then, he raised his hands sharply, and several jaggedly shaped spears of ice rose up from the ground and hovered in mid-air. He then turned his palms toward two of the guards in front of him, making a pushing motion.

The spears sliced through the air with a hiss, then a pair of cries filled the room as the two guards were struck down by the spears, which had each pierced the chinks in their armor.

The last three guards opted for a different strategy, and charged forward as one. Loki let them come. The first to reach him lunged at him with his spear, and Loki stepped to the side to avoid the razor-sharp tip. As he did this, his caught the tip of another spear in his hand and it immediately was coated in ice. With a twist of his wrist, he snapped the spearhead clean off. Using this, he stabbed down into the first guard's neck, blood spurting out onto his hand and the spearhead as he twisted it, then ripped it out. He pivoted, and slashed across the throat of the guard who's spear he had broken. Both guards fell to the ground, their hands clutching at their necks as their life-blood spilled out onto the icy floor.

Loki turned toward the last guard, who had come to a halt after seeing what Loki had done to his comrades. Loki carelessly tossed aside the spearhead and advanced on the final foe. He batted aside the guard's spear as he raised it in defence, and grabbed the man's helmet, tearing it off of his head. This too was discarded and Loki gripped the man's head with both hands and began to squeeze. Ice seeped from his fingertip and into and onto the man's head. Then, once it became too much, the man's head shattered in Loki's hands and his body fell into a heap at his feet.

Loki let the fragments of the man's frozen, shattered head fall from his fingers and onto the floor, then he lowered his hands to his sides.

Slowly, the pulsing, raging magic in his veins began to slow and he started taking deep, slow breaths as his skin gradually shifted back to its normal hue and his eyes dimmed back to their usual blue-green color. It seemed that his body had finally begun the process of replenishing its stores of magic; Asgardian magic.

He measured his breathing and felt his body and mind calm. As the red left his eyes, the blood lust that had clouded his mind began to fade away and rational thought returned to him once more.

He looked around, in a sort of detached wonder, at the death surrounding him, taking in the ice all around him with widened eyes. He lifted his hands up in front of him and gazed down at them, turning them back and forth curiously. Tilting his head just a fraction, he tapped into his Jotun magic once again and watched as the air around his hands crackled with icy mist. He let the magic dissipate and lowered his hands to his sides again.

All was quiet in the hall as Loki thought about what he had just done. He had just slaughtered the palace guards without impunity and, strangely, he could not bring himself to feel any regret over his actions. They had turned their backs on him and his family, and thus they were traitors and deserved to die as such. He glared down at the motionless corpses, then turned to make his way back to the dungeon. Despite his success so far, he knew that he would need help if he was to reclaim Asgard from Amora and Skurge, and anyone else that dared stand in his way. He silently cursed himself for having been blinded by his anger and not taking the time to free the others before storming out into the palace halls.

He had only taken three steps when the great hall was filled with the sound of what Loki thought was rushing air, but this was proven false when a split second later a large ball of fire struck him hard in the back, causing him to stumble forward a few steps then fall onto his face. He swiftly rolled over, his magic extending to extinguish the flames licking at his leather-clad back. A soft hiss was heard as the ice snuffed the fires and Loki hissed as well as he returned to his feet to face his new foe.

On the far side of the throne room stood Amora, her green armor appearing to be a deep emerald in the low light of the room. Her hands were held at her sides, bent at the elbows and hands poised, palms up, like talons, a ball of flames engulfing both of her hands, casting her profile in a menacing light. She was smiling at him, but there was no joy nor amusement in her expression, only pity and disdain, and perhaps, Loki thought, a touch of sadness.

"You should have just given in, Loki. Johann will be most displeased when he hears about this," Amora said, her voice holding hints of warning.

Loki tilted his head. "Who is going to tell him? You?" He chuckled, the sound low and resonating from somewhere deep in his chest. It was almost dark. "My dear Amora, I'm afraid that you won't live long enough to tell him."

Amora's eyes widened as Loki gathered orbs of ice into his hands and melded them into twin ice-daggers. He then sped toward her, using all of the strength he could manage to find to make his movements quicker and harder for her to counter and follow as he dashed at her in a zig-zag pattern.

Amora's eyes now darted from side to side, trying to keep up with his movements, but finding it difficult. Growling, she put her hands together, fusing the two fireballs together into one large one, then pushed it out into a constant spray of flames, fanning them out in a wide arc, hoping to catch Loki off guard and set him ablaze.

Loki, seeing her plan, leapt into the air and over the flames. He descended down on her, daggers poised to strike, but she looked up at the last second and was able to teleport backwards a few feet, just enough to avoid being sliced to ribbons by his daggers. As he landed, he morphed the ice in his hands again, melding them together and extending them as a spear toward her, letting it grow out rather than try to advance on her.

She teleported again, barely escaping being skewered on the ice-lance.

Loki smirked and teleported as well, appearing near the daïs that the throne sat on, just as Amora appeared in the middle of the room. He lashed out, sending a flurry of ice-spikes in her direction. She dodged to the side and sent two large fireballs his way.

Loki pulled more magic in and formed a blade of ice in his hands, then sliced across in a horizontal arc, the ice and fire meeting in a hiss and cloud of steam, but canceling each other out. He cursed and threw another spike at her as she fired another blazing attack at him. The ice melted as it met the ball of fire, and Amora's attack continued directly at him. He Shrugged and jumped forward to meet it head-on, forming a shield of ice in his hands as he met it.

A thick cloud of steam filled the air around him and he sprinted though it, teleporting in the thick of it to behind where Amora was standing. Amora, as if sensing his presence, spun on her heel and blasted a bolt of lightning at him as he appeared. Loki, in a desperate move, teleported away before he had fully materialized behind her.

He reappeared behind the throne daïs, and was immediately overcome by a wave of exhaustion. He gasped for breath and bent double, his hands going to his knees. Never had he attempted such a thing as changing teleportation destination at the last second, and he now found it to be a frightfully draining course of action. It had been risky, but he deemed it a necessary alternative to being struck by lightning; Amora's was nowhere near as powerful as Thor's, but it would have paralyzed him long enough for Amora to neutralize him.

He focused inward and felt that his core levels were severely depleted. He supposed that most of his Jotun magic had been used up during his rampage earlier, and his Asgardian magic was just starting to replenish and had been nowhere near full power. Now, he was running on fumes, so to speak.

He closed his eyes and thought. His next move would have to be perfectly executed and failure would mean defeat, again. This was not an option. He turned his head and opened his eyes. Amora was creeping forward, using the tall floor-to-ceiling pillars that lined the sides of the room as cover in her approach. He could hear her light footfalls.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to strike, gathering the needed strength for what he had to do. After exhaling, he teleported again, appearing behind the Enchantress, as silently as a shadow. Opting not to use his Jotun magic again, he lunged with his bare hands, his long, strong fingers going for her neck and throat.

Shock filled him as his hands closed around only air, and the image of Amora flickered in front of him, then faded altogether. He barely had time to lament his own stupidity before his body seized and locked up as electricity coursed through his being. He collapsed to the ground, convulsing from the shocks. He could barely whimper, his tongue having gone numb from the electric current that passed through him.

A second later, the real Amora materialized at his side, a wide smile on her pretty face, her chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths, her skin shining with a light layer of sweat from the exertion of their battle and such extensive use of her magic. "I did it," she whispered, slightly in awe and more to herself than anything else. She giggled softly, then waved her hand over him, her magic causing his muscles to go stiff, disabling him from moving. "I can't believe that worked. I was sure that you would see right through me, after all, you _are_ the master of magic here on Asgard."

If Loki could have spoken at that moment, he would have cursed himself into oblivion for his failure. How in the Nine Worlds had he fallen for his own trick?! It was an insult, a scandal, an impossibility. But, he reminded himself, it had just happened, and it was no impossibility any longer. He had been defeated, using his own strategy. _**Pathetic!**_, he spat in his mind, his ire raising as he replayed the moment of his defeat over and over in his head.

He sighed, resigning himself to the truth; he had been over-hasty, and not calculated and observed properly before striking and now he would pay the price for it. He supposed that he had also been overconfident. When one uses as certain strategy when fighting, they know it so well that it becomes second nature, after a while, they never expect that someone else might use their own moves against them, until they do, and then it is too late. He blinked, realizing that his vision was darkening and his eyelids were going heavy. He let the veil of unconsciousness slip over him, not fighting it. He needed the release that sleep would bring from the pain of his failure.

Amora was now looking down at him, taking in his expression. It was somewhere between resignation, regret and disgust. She let out a huff at his lack of resistance and struck him hard in the head with her booted foot. The blow was just enough to send him the rest of the way into unconsciousness.

**XXXX**

Johann walked out of the manor and into the yard, Tyr walking at his side. All around them were the signs that a storm had hit the night before. Trees were missing limbs, and one was laying on its side, the water level around the island was higher than was the average and the ground at their feet was damp from the rain and waves.

Johann stopped in the center of the yard. "We cannot stay here," he told his companion. "S.H.I.E.L.D. already knows where this island is, and it will not be long before they come for us here."

Tyr turned his head to look at Johann, then gazed around at the expanse of the island. "This location is not suitable for a base either. It is too small, and too open." He eyed the wall that surrounded the mansion with distaste. "This wall will not keep S.H.I.E.L.D. out. All it would take is one strike from Thor to bring it crumbling down." He looked up. "Or, they could come by air and avoid the wall altogether. Or, most likely, a combination of both. Also, it we plan to swell our ranks, there will not be enough room for them." He nodded. "We need a bigger, more secure location for our command post," he said with finality.

Johann nodded, trusting Tyr's military mind and having come to the same conclusion himself. "I want you to stay here and keep the Barons in line. I want them all ready to move out by the time I return. And acquire some form of transport, a ship or something for us to use."

Tyr nodded. "It shall be so."

Johann placed his hands behind his back. "Good. Get to it, General."

Tyr bowed slightly. "My King." Then, he turned about-face and marched back inside the mansion.

Johann lifted his eyes to the heavens and called out. "Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!"

A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Johann clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists. He was preparing to call out again when a clap of thunder was heard and the clouds above began to shift and churn as the sea did in the midst of a typhoon.

The clouds took the shape of a large funnel and descended down from above to envelope him. Johann stood solid as the Bifrost lifted him away from the earth and carried him through the cosmos and beyond the stars to the realm eternal; to Asgard.

He came to a halt and found himself in the large, golden, domed room that Heimdall resided within. He looked up at the bridge's guardian, his expression demanding to know what had caused him to delay in opening the portal.

Heimdall inclined his head in apology. "Forgive me, my king. I was delayed by the Executioner. He demanded to know why I was moving from my place at the entrance to this room. I had to explain to him that you were calling for me to open the bridge."

Johann turned his eyes to the doorway, where Skurge was standing. His eyes narrowed at the bigger man and he glared dangerously at him. Skurge merely averted his eyes. Johann looked back to Heimdall and gave him a nod, letting him know that he did not hold any ill will against him for Skurge's actions.

He stalked toward the exit of the building, his eyes hard as he looked at the half-Jotun warrior that he had left to watch over Heimdall. He had told the man to watch Heimdall for treachery, not impede him in doing his duties as guardian of the Bifrost. He did not say anything to the bigger man as he walked past him, but he did not relent in his scolding glare.

He traversed the distance between the Bifrost and the palace in silence, his thoughts drifting ahead to his plans on Midgard. Thus, he did not see the looks that the citizens of Asgard were casting his way, the vast majority of them leveling looks of utter disgust or hatred at him. Mingled with these were the expressions of fear, and regret for loved ones lost so far; the war had barely begun and yet already several lives had been lost on both sides. While none of the casualties had been anyone of significant note, they had all been _somebody_, and any loss in war, no matter who or on what side or how important they were or what station they held, all were heavy losses and brought pain and sadness with them. It was a hard truth of war, one that few ever viewed as more than a statistic.

The people of Asgard were an unnaturally close-knit society where pretty much everyone knew everyone or had heard of them from someone else. When someone died, or something of significance occurred, it sent ripples through the community and soon everyone knew of it. The deaths of the palace guards at the hands of Loki, earlier that day, and before that when Thor, Natasha and Loki had fought back when Johann had first made his move, had already spread to the far reaches of the Asgardian civilization, and the vast majority, especially those that were kin to the deceased, held Johann responsible for their losses; if he had left well enough alone and not sought to implant himself at the head of their society, then their sons, brothers, fathers, cousins, lovers, husbands and friends would still draw breath. The Asgardians prided themselves as a warrior race, and placed great value in strength at arms and death in battle, but, when fighting for a dishonorable cause, their deaths were not seen as befitting warriors of Asgard. It was this knowledge, that their loved ones had fallen for a would-be tyrant, who was a traitor to them all. They had not fallen as warriors of Asgard, but as traitors fighting for a false king. But, rather than lay the blame on their fallen comrades, or upon the true royal family who had slain them, they instead placed it squarely and solely at the feet of the man who now commanded them. Now, they only hoped that the dead could find honor in the afterlife and somehow make their way to Valhalla.

Johann entered the courtyard, uncaring of the mutinous gazes upon his back as he started up the stairs to the main hall of the palace, that also served as the throne room. As he entered, his eyes were immediately drawn the signs of recent battle. Here and there, the walls were marked with black from the scorching heat of flames and there was an ever-shrinking patch of ice off to the side of the throne daïs. The ice housed spots of red, which he assumed to be the blood of the combatants.

His eyes turned to the throne, where a tired-looking figure in green sat, their head leaned against one hand and the other hand resting heavily on the armrest of the throne. As he drew nearer, he could make out more details of Amora's profile. Her eyes were closed and her lips were tipped down into a frown. He reasserted to himself that she appeared to be quite tired.

The clicking of his boots on the stone floor echoed around the room, seeming much too loud in the stillness of the long, open room. Finally, when he was at the foot of the daïs, her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head off of her hand, glancing around to find the source of the noise that had roused her from her nap. When her sight fell on Johann, she quickly straightened up and made to smooth out her hair and disguise any and all signs that she had been asleep. Johann smirked at this display, futile as it was.

"My dear Amora," he said with some sympathy, "you look exhausted."

Amora nodded and rubbed her eyes hastily. "Sorry, Johann, I was-"

He raised a hand and waved her to silence. "It's all right." He turned his head to survey the damage done to the room, barely catching Amora's relieved sigh out of the corner of his eye. "Now, Amora, what happened here?" He gestured vaguely toward the burn marks and the ice.

Amora appeared tired once more. "Loki."

Johann raised a brow at her answer. "What do you mean?"

Amora sighed again. "Somehow, he managed to escape from the dungeon. We found his cuffs broken. He killed nine guards before I was able to subdue him. Luckily, it seemed that he wasn't at full power and tired himself out quite quickly, otherwise I fear I would not have been able to stop him."

Johann nodded his head as she finished speaking. "Where is he now?"

Amora gestured behind her to the door that lead back to the dungeon. "Back in his cell, with a new pair of cuffs and a battalion of guards watching him. He was unconscious when they carried him back down there."

Johann nodded again and ascended the steps to where she was sitting. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You have done well, Amora. Now, go to your chambers and get some rest." She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "That is an order from your king, Amora. Now, go."

Amora looked up at him and smiled faintly before standing and walking slowly up to what used to be the royal family's quarters. She had taken up residence in what had been an unoccupied room, next to what was once Balder's chambers. She had checked all of the rooms, and somehow she had never felt comfortable in any of those that had until recently been occupied by the royal family.

Johann made his way to the dungeons, walking swiftly, with determination. He had not believed that it was possible for anyone to ever release themselves from his creations, let alone break them. He would have to get to the bottom of this and punish the one who dared attempt such a feat.

He descended down the stone stairway and into the row. At about three-quarters of the way down, there was a small group of guards all standing outside of one of the cells, the door to said cell leaning against the opposite wall and there were still several chunks of the wall laying strewn about the floor at their feet.

They parted to allow him to pass, each of them lowering their heads as his station warranted. He stepped up into the darkened cell and gazed down at the still form heaped on the floor at his feet. On each side of the wall, laying in several pieces, was the pair of shackles that the Trickster had been wearing. There were small puddles of water around them, though they were nearing the state of being little more than damp spaces on the floor. It wasn't a wild leap of the imagination that these puddles and the melting ice in the throne room were from the same source.

Johann seemed to think to himself for a few minutes then he smirked, turning back to face the guards still gathered outside the cell. "Take him to the viper's pit. Remove those new shackles and chain him there, beneath the serpent's fangs."

He did not wait to see if they understood his orders, but walked back down the row and out of the dungeon.

**XXXX**

After Johann was gone, the guards exchanged looked of surprise and uncertainty. There was a sense of disbelief that their king would command them to do this thing, but they did not dare to disobey, and so they lifted the unconscious prince up and carried him between them, out of the dungeon and out of the palace and beyond the walls of the city, in the opposite direction of the Bifrost, into a cave carved into the base of a sheer cliff. Through this cave they marched, the darkness driven before them and kept at bay by the light of the torches held in their hands.

They exited out of the cave and into a clearing of sorts. Instead of an open area surrounded by trees as one would find in a forest or jungle, this clearing was flanked on all sides by high sheer cliffs that reached far above them to heights that seemed almost impossible and limitless. In the very center of the clearing was a low, semi-flat stone with Dwarven iron rings fitted and drilled into the stone with four thick chains hanging off of them. It was to this stone that they carried the prince. He was positioned on the alter-like rock and his arms extended out to his sides. The chains, which were anchored to the ground on either side of the rock, were fastened to his wrists and ankles, much like the shackles that were already sapping him dry of energy. As soon as these iron cuffs were locked shut, they glowed white-hot and tightened to fit snug against his flesh, and the area beneath blistering and turning red as the heat melted the skin to the iron, securing him painfully in place.

The guard who's cuffs had been placed on Loki removed them and stepped back. Color began to creep back into the Trickster's flesh, slowly. They stood back, watching him slowly return to consciousness. It took a little over three hours for Loki to open his eyes. They snapped open, fear and pain clear in those emerald-sapphire irises. His mouth opened wide, and his throat was ripped by a gut-wrenching scream.

He thrashed about and struggled against his restraints, but no matter how hard he fought, they held tight and his back contorted at a painfull angle as he tried to rise.

His veins were dark against his skin as he finally came to a still and his eyes sought about frantically for some means of escape or someone to help him. When his eyes fell on the guards that were standing by with blank, emotionless faces, his fear turned to anger and he thrashed out once more, trying his hardest to break free so that he may destroy those that had done this to him. His rage was almost animalistic in its nature.

A few of the guards flinched as he unleashed a primal scream at them before falling silent and collapsing back onto the stone. He took several deep, ragged breaths. "Release me," he whispered toward them, his voice somewhat strained. When no one moved forward to do as he had instructed, he felt a wave of helplessness overcome him and he felt the back of his eyes sting as tears collected there. Rather than let them fall however, he closed his eyes, willing them away, then he shoved the feeling aside and drew on his anger, feeling it give him some strength. "RELEASE ME!"

Again, a couple of the guards flinched at the ire that was conveyed through his voice, but still no one stepped forward to heed his call. Instead of trying to escape again, he leveled them with a smoldering glare, one that caused one of the guards to take a step back from the trickster. His eyes promised retribution and revenge, they promised bloodshed. This glare did not last long as the attention of all was drawn upward.

Loki looked up along with the guards and his pained eyes widened again as he laid eyes on the form that was now snaking out from an opening farther up the walls. A large semi-triangular head attached to a long dark body stretched out above him. The beast tilted its head downward, its forked tongue flicking out sporadically to taste the air. Its milky eyes fell on the form that was chained to the center stone and its mouth opened wide.

Before Loki had time to close his eyes, a large drop of clear-yellow venom fell down and splashed against his face and chest. His clothing was seared away and his skin bubbled and melted under the acidic substance. His mouth was now open in a silent scream, the pain too great for him to even hope of, let alone think of finding his voice. With his mouth still wide, another large drop fell down after the first. This time, the venom poured down his throat and into his stomach, turning his insides to a charred mess of blistered, bubbling flesh and blood. As if by some cruel miracle, he was still alive and he felt his accelerated healing kick in and repair the damage that had been done, only for it to be undone once more as another drop rained down on him, his melting body mending in moments.

One of the guards cried out as a drop of the venom splashed off of Loki and landed on his arm. He dropped his round, dwarven iron shield on the ground and clawed at his arm. He fell to the ground as the flesh on his arm was burned and melted. The guard in charge, immediately barked orders for them all to leave, instructing one of the others to escort the injured man to the healing room. As a unit, they turned about-face and marched back into the cave, leaving their prince to suffer beneath the rain of venom from the ancient viper. The last thing they heard was a loud cry from Loki, with was soon ended when more venom fell onto him, rendering him too stricken with agony to even so much as breath until his healing repaired the wounds.

**XXXX**

The next day, Johann made his way down to the viper's pit, himself, and stood gazing out at the writhing form of Loki from the shadow of the cave. He did not reveal himself during the hour that he stood there, taking in the sight of his will made reality. "You should not have defied me," he whispered aloud, though none but himself could hear it and it was lost amidst the sounds of Loki's torment.

Shortly after, he departed from that ancient place and returned to the palace, where he ventured to the treasure room. At the far end, sat the Tesseract. It was to this that he approached. After a short search, he discovered the clear, gold-lined container that Thor had brought the cube back to Asgard in after defeating his brother on Earth. With carefull motions, he placed the Tesseract securely within this container and departed from the room.

Later that day, Johann and Amora stood outside the Bifrost with Skurge and Heimdall. It had been decided that Amora would accompany him back to the Earth to assist him with the take-over. Skurge did not appear to be too thrilled with this decision, with brought Johann some degree of satisfaction. But, he had opted to let Skurge act as steward of Asgard during his time away, as a duel method of keeping Skurge in his camp, and as a test of loyalty. However Skurge decided to use this new power would inform Johann of his motives and whether or not he could be trusted.

Amora walked over to stand by the portal opening while Johann had a private word with Heimdall. "Heimdall, I know that we do not see eye-to-eye on many things, but one thing that I think we can both agree on it that Skurge cannot be trusted." When the Bifrost's guardian did not deny this, he continued. "I want you to do me a favor, Heimdall."

Heimdall was quiet to a moment, seeming to be conflicted. "Anything, my king."

Johann glanced to where Skurge was standing. "Keep an eye on him for me. Watch him for any sign of treachery."

Heimdall nodded. "I shall do so. And, should he prove to be false, I will remove the threat myself."

Johann smiled thinly. "Good man."

No more words were exchanged as Johann walked over to join Amora, who smiled up at him, happy to be going to Midgard to be an active part of the war effort. Heimdall opened the Bifrost and the two were drawn in and transported across the universe to the mortal realm.

Johann and her found themselves on an island with a large mansion. Tyr emerged from within to greet them and informed Johann that all had been prepared as he had instructed. Johann nodded and gave the order for them all to depart the island.

A ship was anchored just offshore, and several smaller boats were currently ferrying men and supplies from the island to the ship. This ship was owned by Baron Wolfgang von Strucker, and was normally kept anchored near the mainland so as to not draw attention to the island, but now that they had use of it, he had contacted the captain and ordered him to summon his crew and set sail for their location immediately.

As the last boat returned to the shore, Johann and Amora stepped into it along with Tyr and a handful of HYDRA soldiers. The boat sped across the water to the base of the ship, where they were lifted, boat and all, up onto the deck. They exited the small craft and it was secured by the crew.

The Gorgon met them on the deck and led them up to the bridge where the captain and the Barons were waiting for them.

"What is our heading?" the captain asked him.

Johann looked to the man, his eyes meeting the captain's, then walked over to the helmsman to give him the coördinates of their destination. After receiving these, they were off. Johann gazed out at the open ocean before them, knowing that where they were going, S.H.I.E.L.D. would never find them.

**XXXX**

**A/N: Another chapter down. I hope you enjoyed. Sorry for the not-so-great last section, I'm tired. Anyway, leave a review for me to read and enjoy. I love reading reviews...**

**Until next time.**

**-Atrocity.**

**P.S.: For those who are fans of my Harry Potter work, my next story is in the planning stages, and I have been working on a video preview for it. It is tentatively titled 'The Hound (Of Blood and Rank)' or simply 'The Hound'. It's going to be different from my previous works in that it is going to be Scabior/Hermione, instead of my usual, and favorite, pairing: Harry/Hermione. I got inspired after watching Deathly Hallows Part One again. I'll be starting it as soon as I finish this story and I have already started drawing up a rough outline for it. Sorry to those following my unfinished tale, 'Black Days', I regret that I most likely won't be finishing it, but I hope you'll enjoy my new stories nonetheless.**


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